


A Healing Year

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Rafael Barba learned how to protect his heart from the world, and he gave up on the hope of ever falling in love - until Sonny Carisi made him want all the things he'd accepted he would never have.*As is often the case, I've ignored the existence of The Undiscovered Country and Barba's resultant departure.*





	A Healing Year

 

**OCTOBER**

 

“Jeez, you look like shit.”

“Ah,” Barba said, peering blearily out at the detective on his doorstep. “Flattery.” He paused, trying to think through the thudding in his head, but he couldn’t come up with a valid reason for Carisi to be knocking on his door at—Barba checked his watch but couldn’t bring the hands into focus—somewhere between noon and five p.m. on a Friday.

“No, seriously, Rafael—you don’t look so good.”

Barba could hear the concern in Carisi’s voice, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with reassurances. “Try not to be offended when I close the door in your face,” he said, pulling at the edge of the door with a shaky hand. He took a half-step backward and his stomach lurched. _Oh, God, not again_ , he thought.

“No, wait,” Carisi said, throwing out a hand to catch the door, but Barba had already turned away. “I brought you some files from Liv.”

“Leave them anywhere,” Barba said, making his way toward the bathroom with an arm braced over his roiling stomach. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but his skin felt cold and prickly. He heard the apartment door close behind him.

“You okay, Barba?” Carisi asked hesitantly.

Barba didn’t answer. He made it into the bathroom and sank onto the edge of the bathtub beside the toilet, trying to convince himself he could keep control—

 _Nope_. He dropped forward onto his knees, grabbing for the toilet as his stomach clenched and sent up whatever remaining dregs it could find. He gagged and retched, tears streaming from his eyes as he continued to dry heave when there was nothing left to vomit.

He vaguely heard Carisi in the bathroom doorway but couldn’t look up at him. It was taking all of his strength just to pull air into his trembling body.

“Shit,” Carisi said, dropping into a crouch beside him. “Flu?”

Barba managed to roll his eyes toward Carisi’s face but couldn’t quite bring his features into focus. He was too miserable and exhausted to muster any sense of humiliation but supposed it would come later. If he survived this. “Food poisoning,” he croaked.

Carisi grimaced and put a hand on Barba’s shoulder. “Oh, man,” he said. “Should I drive you to the hospital?”

“I think—” Barba stopped, swallowing several times, and squeezed his leaking eyes closed. “I think I’m on the tail end,” he muttered. He was surprised to feel Carisi’s wrist against his forehead but didn’t have the fortitude to open his eyes.

“If this is the tail end, how fucking sick have you been—and for how long?” Carisi asked, and there was accusation in his voice, now, mixed with the concern. Barba might’ve laughed, if he didn’t feel like he might be dying; Carisi wouldn’t be the first to criticize his lack of self-care.

“Started late last night,” Barba said. He pushed weakly at the toilet, flopping himself back onto his ass until he felt the cold, hard wall of the tub behind his back. He squinted his eyes cautiously. The bathroom lights hurt his head. Had he turned them on, or had Carisi? He had no idea.

“You have a fever,” Carisi told him.

“Yeah,” Barba said, slowly drawing up a knee to hug it to his chest. He dropped his forehead onto his knee and once more closed his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled into his sweats.

“I think you should see a doctor.”

“Don’t wanna,” Barba muttered. That wasn’t precisely true; he’d love for someone to take away this pain and misery, and if he thought there was a magic cure, he’d be all over it. But he couldn’t bear the thought of getting to his feet and somehow making it outside, into a vehicle…No, he just wanted to curl up on the floor and wait for it to be over. He’d been sick like this once before, and it had passed within twenty-four hours. He just had to tough it out.

He made an involuntary mewling sound at the thought. He wasn’t feeling very damn tough.

Carisi sighed and settled a hand onto Barba’s shoulder again. He didn’t comment on the sweat that had soaked through the cotton of the t-shirt. “How can I help?” he asked, reaching over to flush the toilet.

“You don’t need—” Barba stopped and swallowed again. Every time he opened his mouth, his intestines tried to escape. He moaned against the inside of his lips.

“Have you been able to keep anything down? Water? Something for the fever?” When Barba rolled his forehead against his knee in negation, Carisi said, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Barba didn’t answer. He sat huddled against the bathtub feeling equally hot and cold, listening to the thump of his own heart. Carisi was back in a minute.

“Here,” he said. Barba lifted his head and cracked an eye. “Ice. I broke the cubes into smaller pieces. Do you have diarrhea, too?”

Barba managed to half-cock an eyebrow. “Not at the moment,” he said. Carisi chuckled dutifully, and Barba grimaced. He took the cup of ice with a shaky hand and propped it on his leg. “This morning,” he said. “Emptied myself out but…I tried to eat a few hours ago, big mistake. So far it’s, uh…only come up, though.”

“Alright. Where’s your key?”

“Key?”

“I’m gonna run to the store real quick, I need your key so I can let myself back in.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Be that as it may,” Carisi said, flashing his famous dimples.

Barba debated for a moment. He didn’t want to admit how much he didn’t want to be alone. He’d almost called someone a dozen times during the day, but who would he call? His mother? Benson? An ambulance? “I think they’re in my coat pocket. Hanging by the door,” he said.

“Okay, I’m gonna help you into bed.”

“I can walk.”

“Can you?”

“I don’t know,” Barba said, closing his eyes.

Carisi pulled the cup of ice from Barba’s fingers and set it on the counter. “Well, let’s find out,” he said. He held down a hand.

“I want to stay here,” Barba said.

“No, you don’t,” Carisi countered.

“I don’t?”

“No, you just know it would be easier. When do you ever take the easy way out?”

“Now.”

“Hmm. Come on, up.”

“Go away.”

Carisi grabbed Barba’s arm. “Count of three,” he said. “Okay? One, two, up.” He pulled. Barba did his best to push up with his legs, but he never would’ve made it without Carisi. The detective did all the work.

Barba swayed, reaching out for Carisi’s shoulder as black spots swarmed his vision. Carisi still had hold of his other arm, and he was talking; Barba could hear his voice but couldn’t make out the words over the buzz of those growing spots.

 _That can’t be right_ , Barba thought. He had a quick view of the bathroom ceiling, and his stomach rolled, and then there was nothing.

 

*       *       *

 

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on his back in his bed. Carisi was standing beside him. Barba took a moment to assess: his head was thudding, his body was achy and quivery, his stomach was burning but not—at the moment—trying to climb out of his throat.

“What happened?” he asked, although it seemed clear enough.

“You blacked out.”

“How’d I get here?”

“I carried you.”

“How long was I unconscious?” Barba asked, licking at his cracked lips.

“No more’n two minutes, and you’re lucky. Any longer’n you’d be on your way to the hospital.”

“You carried me?”

“I need to know if you’re gonna be okay alone for a few minutes.”

“I’ve been alone all day,” Barba said, sliding his stare to the ceiling.

“Well, I’m not leaving unless I know—”

“I’m fine,” Barba said. “Thanks for…” He waved a weak hand above the bed. He was never going to live this down, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at the detective. Barba’s clothes were stuck to his body, and he knew he smelled like sweat and vomit and God knew what else. He knew he looked as horrible as he felt. And now, of all the people to be standing next to his bed while he stewed in his own filth and misery, of all the people to have to carry his chubby ass to bed—

Sonny fucking Carisi.

Barba closed his eyes.

“I put your phone right here next to the ice cubes. Promise you’ll call or text if you need immediate help.”

Barba realized the man was waiting for an actual promise. “Okay,” he muttered.

“I’ll be right back, alright? I put a trashcan next to the bed here, don’t try to get up if you get sick, you could fall and crack your head open.”

“I should be so lucky.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t be gone long.”

“Did you really carry me?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I dragged you?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, I dragged you,” he said, and Barba could hear the smile in his voice.

“Liar,” Barba murmured. He could remember that brief flash of ceiling; he hadn’t been falling, he was being scooped up like a goddamned child.

Carisi chuckled softly. “Yeah, well. Any chance to sweep Rafael Barba off his feet.”

Barba’s eyes opened in surprise and found Carisi’s face. Carisi was still smiling, but he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet for a moment, his smile taking on a sheepish, embarrassed quality. “Sorry I missed it,” Barba heard himself say.

Carisi laughed. “Good to see you’re making jokes, maybe you’re on the mend, after all.”

 _Who’s joking?_ Barba thought.

“I’ll be right back.”

Barba nodded against the pillow and watched as Carisi turned to leave.

 

*       *       *

 

“Rafael?”

Barba’s eyes opened slowly; his eyelids felt swollen and sore, hot. Carisi was crouched beside the bed, his face nearly level with Barba’s. Barba was curled onto his side, hugging a pillow to his chest. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and he had to peel it off to speak.

“C’risi?” he croaked, but that was stupid. Of course it was him, he’d said he would be right back.

“Yeah. You feel alright?”

“Great,” Barba muttered, earning a smile from the other man. “Guess I fell asleep.”

“Good, sleep is good,” Carisi said, pressing his wrist gently against Barba’s sweaty forehead for a moment. “I’ll let you get lots of sleep in just a few minutes, ‘kay? First I need you to sit up, can you do that?” He pulled the pillow from Barba’s arms.

“No,” Barba said, but he pushed himself over onto his back with a wince and then up onto his elbows. He paused, gathering his strength. Carisi’s hand was on his upper back, supporting him. Barba sat up and carefully scooted against the pillows Carisi had quickly propped behind him.

“Good job,” Carisi said without irony.

Barba snorted but was too tired to roll his eyes. “Thanks, Mom,” he said.

“I need you to take these with just a sip of water, don’t drink too much until we know how your stomach will react. We’ll try some ice chips after you swallow these.”

It didn’t occur to Barba to balk. He swallowed the pills that Carisi placed in his palm with a sip of water from the cup that Carisi tipped up to his lips. The water was cold and felt good against his raw throat. His mouth tasted like sour vomit, and it was hard not to take a large gulp of water.

But, Carisi was right. Barba had no desire to find himself wrapped around the toilet again.

“Nibble on this.”

“Pardon?”

“Saltine. Nibble. Small bites.”

“I know what _nibble_ means.”

“Course you do. They wouldna let you into Harvard otherwise.”

Barba was surprised into a laugh.

“You still have a temp but I think it’s gone down some.”

“Your wrist a thermometer?”

“Yeah, it’s my superpower.”

“Bet it drives the…women wild,” Barba said, faltering over his words and cursing himself as an idiot. “Or…whoever,” he added, apparently determined to find the only way to make it worse. He bit into a cracker to shut himself up.

To his credit, Carisi laughed. “Sure, beats having to run around in tights. How’s your stomach feeling? Okay? Good,” he said when Barba nodded.

 _He probably thinks I was fishing_ , Barba thought. _As if I’d think of hitting on him now, when I’ve never felt grosser in my life._

“I’ve got some broth warming up.”

“Broth?”

“Yeah, if you keep down some ice cubes and crackers first.”

“Why are you here, again?”

“Because we’re friends whether you wanna admit it or not.”

“No, I mean—why did you—”

“Oh.” Carisi’s face suddenly split into a grin that caught Barba completely by surprise, and he found himself staring helplessly at the detective. “Duh. The lieutenant sent you some files. I put ’em on your table.”

Barba swallowed, or tried to, and tore his gaze away from the other man’s smile. He reached over and managed to snag an ice cube from the cup on the nightstand, and he popped it into his mouth. “Did you really just say ‘duh?’” he asked after the ice had partially melted on his crackery, vomity tongue.

“Well, _I_ didn’t go to Harvard,” Carisi joked.

“You could’ve,” Barba answered. He saw the embarrassment in Carisi’s smile, and felt the need to reassure him. “Believe me, you’re smarter than half my graduating class, at least. Rita’d tell you the same if you catch her in a decent mood.”

“Calhoun? Does she have those?”

Barba smiled. “Occasionally,” he said, grabbing another ice cube. His stomach felt alright so far, but sitting up—even with the pillows behind him—was tiring him out. It hurt his neck just to hold up his head, and it hurt his _severely_ damaged pride to have Carisi ministering to him. He crunched the melting ice. “Don’t you have to get back to work or something?” he asked.

“Nope, sorry,” Carisi said with a smile.

“I didn’t mean…” Barba frowned and ate a cracker. He could hear himself chewing and swallowing and was painfully aware of how quiet the room was. At least Carisi had straightened back up and wasn’t staring at him; he was looking curiously around Barba’s bedroom, and Barba glanced around at the familiar space, wondering how it would appear to Carisi—or any outsider.

“This is pretty,” Carisi said, pointing a long finger toward the afghan over the back of the chair. “Did your grandmother make that?”

Barba was surprised. “Yes.”

Carisi saw the question in his expression and smiled again. “I’ve got a couple myself—they might look different than this one but they feel the same, you know?”

Barba blinked, considered, and nodded slowly.

“How’s the cracker settling, good?”

“So far.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.”

Barba stared after him, wondering which one of them had lost their mind.

Carisi returned with a mug and a paper towel, and before Barba’s fever-slowed brain could catch up to what was happening, Carisi bent and tucked a corner of the paper towel into the collar of Barba’s t-shirt to create a makeshift bib. Barba looked down at it, wondering if Carisi would think the flush in his cheeks was from the fever.

“Alright, try some of this,” the detective said, and Barba dragged his gaze up to meet Carisi’s. The younger man suddenly had some color in _his_ cheeks, too, and he couldn’t blame it on food poisoning.

 _Interesting_ , Barba thought, but he immediately closed his tired mind to dangerous musings. “I can hold it,” he said, lifting a hand.

Carisi raised the mug to his own chin, pursed his lips, and blew softly into the cup. Barba stared at him. After a moment, Carisi lowered the mug and turned it, easing the handle into Barba’s hand and waiting until he’d closed his fingers around it.

“It’s not too hot,” Carisi said. His hands hovered nearby until Barba put his other palm under the cup to steady it. Then Carisi straightened, watching as Barba carefully lifted the mug with both hands and sipped at the warm broth. “Don’t take too much right away.”

Barba swallowed the soothing liquid, peering at Carisi over the rim of the mug. “I think I just need to sleep it off, now,” he murmured. Even with both hands, he could barely support the cup. All he wanted was to sink down in bed and sleep until he felt like a human being again.

He didn’t want Carisi to know quite how pathetic he was feeling, though, or the detective would feel obligated to continue babysitting him.

“Two more drinks,” Carisi said, “and I’ll let you sleep.”

Barba didn’t have the strength to argue. What little energy he’d gained during his short nap had already been burned, so he took two more sips and let Carisi pull the mug from his fingers.

Carisi pulled the paper towel from Barba’s shirt as Barba was slowly sliding himself down in bed, and he pulled the extra pillow from behind his head. Barba breathed a sigh of relief as his tired body settled into the mattress, and he closed his eyes.

Carisi woke Barba again a few hours later. Barba could barely open his eyes or lift his head, but he had vague memories of Carisi forcing him to drink something that wasn’t water or broth, and then helping him to the bathroom and waiting with his back turned while Barba’s dehydrated body struggled to pee.

As soon as they made it back to the bed, Barba collapsed onto the mattress and buried his face in the pillow, already—or still—half asleep.

“It might not feel like it, but you’re getting better,” Carisi said, pulling the blankets up over his back. “All you need is sleep and you’ll feel good as new in the morning.”

That seemed highly unlikely, and yet Barba believed him. He mumbled into his pillow.

“Yeah,” Carisi said, and Barba gave in to the pull of unconsciousness.

 

*       *       *

 

Barba’s eyes fluttered open and he caught his breath, listening. He’d been lounging in that Vaseline-lensed realm of fantasy between sleep and reality, content to stay in that world of things that his waking mind had no business imagining.

But reality had found its way into his subconscious, propelling him toward the real world with a single realization: he wasn’t alone in his bed. The heat of the body beside him, the soft rustle of sheets as someone shifted, the muted scent of aftershave, the even breaths of a peacefully-sleeping body…None of those were products of Barba’s imagination. He swallowed carefully, pausing for a moment to take stock of his own body. His fever was gone. His stomach felt calm. He was a little achy, but that was to be expected. He felt…miraculously normal.

He turned his head slowly. Carisi was sleeping beside him. _That_ wasn’t normal.

Carisi’s breath hitched, and his eyes opened and found Barba’s. Barba’s heart stuttered, and he swallowed again. “Hey,” Carisi said, blinking to rid the sleep from his eyes. He stretched his legs beneath the blankets. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Barba answered. “Much better.”

“Did I wake you?” Carisi asked on a yawn. “Sometimes I shift around in my sleep.”

“I was just dreaming there was a gangly young detective in my bed,” Barba said before he could think to stop himself.

Carisi smiled sleepily and scratched at his bare chest, inadvertently pushing the blankets down to his stomach. “Your couch is too short. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Barba realized he was staring at Carisi’s chest, and he rolled his head on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling instead. He didn’t immediately answer, because he had no idea what to say. The silence stretched for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry if—” Carisi started.

“Are you undressed?” Barba asked. He winced at the stupidity of his own question.

“I—I’m wearing shorts,” Carisi said. “I started in my t-shirt but you were really hot—” He broke off at Barba’s quiet snort, and there was another rustle as Carisi fidgeted nervously. “Sorry,” he finally repeated. “I didn’t think…” He trailed off.

“You didn’t think I’d mind having a half-naked man in my bed?” Barba suggested.

“I…wasn’t thinking about…You were sick,” Carisi said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll go.”

“It’s fine,” Barba said. “I, uh…” He paused, running his tongue over his lips. He needed a drink. He was dehydrated.

“There’s water on your nightstand,” Carisi said as though reading his mind. Barba looked and spotted the glass with a surge of gratitude. He rolled away from Carisi, up onto an elbow, and grabbed the glass. He drank the tepid liquid, soothing his dry throat and mouth, and returned the empty glass to the nightstand.

“Did I ask you to stay?” Barba asked as he settled onto his back. He didn’t dare look at the detective. He vaguely remembered mumbling some needy and pathetic pleas not to be left alone…He suppressed a groan at the thought.

“Yeah—I wasn’t gonna leave anyway. But I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” Carisi said.

“It’s fine,” Barba repeated. “You’re right, you shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch—”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, I mean we’re friends, I know you don’t think of me like…like that, so—”

“Like what?” Barba asked, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure why his heart was thumping so loudly in his chest.

“Like…how you joked about dreaming about a…detective in your bed…”

“I can hear you blushing,” Barba said.

Carisi made a small sound in his throat. “Well, it’s not like I’d throw myself at you knowing you weren’t interested, and e _specially_ not when you’re sick, and I just thought that you probably trust me enough to know that, and—”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Carisi hesitated. “What?” he finally asked.

“I wasn’t joking, I actually was dreaming about you.”

“Oh. Well…I was taking care of you when you were sick, so it’s natural that you’d think of—”

“It wasn’t that kind of dream. And it wasn’t the first time.”

“I don’t…um…”

“Have I made _you_ uncomfortable?” Barba asked, turning his head finally to look at the younger man.

“No,” Carisi said. His eyes were bright in the low light as he stared back at Barba. “Are you saying…you’re into me?”

Barba chuffed softly in amusement. “Are you really saying you couldn’t feel me staring at your ass every time you left a room?”

Carisi uttered a surprised laugh. “No,” he said, and Barba realized with wonder that Carisi really _hadn’t_ known how much time Barba spent entertaining vastly inappropriate fantasies about the detective. “Liv chewed me out for spending too much time staring at you.”

Barba blinked. “She didn’t.”

“She did. Well, not chewed out so much, she just told me to be less obvious when we were at work.”

“What did you say?”

“After blushing like a horny teenager who got caught by his mother, I volunteered to bring you the paperwork. So I could be obvious in private.”

Barba laughed, watching Carisi’s face split into a grin. “Guess I ruined it by being sick.”

“Well…I didn’t like seeing you so miserable, but…” Carisi rolled toward him and settled a tentative hand onto Barba’s chest. “I did like being able to look after you.”

Barba stared at Carisi’s suddenly-closer face while his heart continued to thump beneath the detective’s hand. “Don’t get used to it,” he managed to say. “I’ll never be sick again.”

Carisi smiled. His hand shifted slightly on Barba’s chest, and the soft friction sent a bolt of heat to Barba’s groin. “Be more careful where you eat, I guess,” the detective suggested quietly. He moved closer, and his knee brushed Barba’s leg beneath the blankets.

“I guess,” Barba echoed.

“I wish I’d been here earlier to help you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. It was brutal.” He couldn’t seem to draw a full breath. Carisi leaned toward him and Barba turned his face away. “Sonny.”

“Sorry, I thought—”

“Stop apologizing for God’s sake,” Barba said. “My clothes are full of old sweat and I need to brush my teeth. And gargle a gallon of mouthwash.”

Carisi chuckled and ducked his head to kiss Barba’s shoulder. “You do kinda smell. No offense.”

“I’m sure.” Barba closed his eyes as Carisi kissed him again, this time pressing his lips to Barba’s collarbone. “You smell nice.”

“Do I?” Carisi sounded both surprised and pleased. He moved his hand again, his palm settling over Barba’s nipple, and Barba felt himself hardening under the blankets. Carisi leaned even closer, his body pressing against the length of Barba’s.

“Please, stop,” Barba said. He could hear the note of desperation in his own voice and knew that Carisi could hear it, too.

Carisi froze for a couple of seconds, then pulled his hand back and started to shift away. “Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

“No,” Barba said, turning partway toward him and grabbing Carisi’s bare arm. He swallowed, once more tearing his eyes away from the curls of hair sprinkling the detective’s chest to meet his concerned gaze. “I don’t mean _don’t_ , just not—not right this second, I’ve had about as much humiliation as I can bear—”

“Humilia—what do you mean?”

Barba grimaced, dropping his hand to the bed between their bodies. “Look, you literally had to carry me to bed, you watched me puking _and_ pissing—”

“I didn’t.”

“—and you fed me—What did you give me last night?”

“Pedialyte.”

“So between all that and the fact that I feel like I rolled around in a dumpster—Pedialyte? Seriously?”

“Made you feel better, didn’t it?”

“Okay. Well…I’d like to present a better side of myself before I let on exactly how much I’m, uh…into you, as you put it.”

“I’ve seen your better side,” Carisi said with a flash of dimple.

Barba ignored that. “I need a shower.”

“Do you need help?”

Barba raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Carisi said, his face flushing. “I meant _really_ , you’re going to be weak until you get some food—”

“Sonny.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re cute when you blush, you know.”

“I don’t blush. I’m a grown man.”

Barba laughed.

“You never call me Sonny. I mean, you never have before.”

Barba smirked. “You’ve never been in my bed before.” Before Carisi could respond, Barba sighed and said, “Okay, that was a joke—but we haven’t exactly socialized outside of work.” He paused. “Okay, yes, we’ve spent a lot of hours together…working late…”

“I assumed you didn’t want to let on you liked me.”

“Riiiiight,” Barba said after a moment. “That would be…an accurate assumption.”

“I mean as a friend.”

“I don’t mean…as a friend.”

“Well I must’ve been doing a shitty job of flirting.”

“I was mentoring you.”

“So…you pretended not to notice because it would be unethical?”

“Pretending? No. If I’d realized you were interested in more than friendship, I doubt my sense of morality would’ve kept me from—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I assumed anything that seemed like _flirting_ was unintentional on your part. You came to me for help learning the law—”

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

“So you lied?” Barba laughed. “You didn’t need my help? Actually, I already know you didn’t, you could’ve done it—”

“I couldn’t have done it without you but I also wanted you to fuck me. I mean, you know. At first.”

“At, uh…” Barba cleared his throat again. “At first?”

“Oh, I still want that. To be clear. I just want more, now. But I didn’t think you were interested or I definitely wouldn’t have crawled in bed with you. I feel like an asshole for that.”

“Can we…discuss this after I get cleaned up?”

“I hope so,” Carisi laughed. “If I didn’t turn you off by being too blunt.”

“I am…definitely not turned off,” Barba muttered, and Carisi grinned.

“Good. I’m not usually but since we’re here I figured, might as well go whole hog, y’know?”

“Whole…Alright,” Barba said, rolling away. “I’m going to take a shower.” He sat up carefully on the edge of the bed, making sure his stomach remained calm. He looked down at the semi-erection tenting the front of his sweats and grimaced. _Maybe a cold shower_.

He picked up his cell phone from the nightstand, noting that Carisi had plugged it in to charge. The detective didn’t miss a detail. There were no messages or missed calls, so Barba left the phone on the stand and got slowly to his feet. He felt a bit lightheaded and shaky but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Alright?” Carisi asked behind him.

“Yep,” Barba answered, although he was going to need to get some serious fluids—and some solid food—into his body. His stomach gurgled at the thought of food. He was hungry, of course, but he was also afraid of a repeat of the previous day. “Are you going to stick around?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’d say make yourself at home but you’ve obviously been finding your way around. Do you need to get in the bathroom before I take it over for a while?”

“Oh. Uhhh, yeah, actually. Thanks.”

Barba looked back as Carisi swung himself out of the opposite side of the bed. The detective’s boxers were hanging askew and low on his hips, and his state of arousal was abundantly clear, outlined by the thin cotton. Barba looked away, feeling guilty for checking. He met Carisi’s eyes.

Carisi was embarrassed, but he smiled and shrugged a bare shoulder. “Whole hog,” he said.

“Yeah.” Barba paused. Swallowed. “Me, too,” he said, answering Carisi’s grin with one of his own.

 

*       *       *

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s already done,” Carisi said, smoothing the clean quilt over the fresh sheets on the bed. “I have everything ready to go in the washer but didn’t want to start a load until I asked if you have any special instructions. Your sheets are a little nicer than mine,” he added with a laugh.

“This is not what I meant by _make yourself at home_.”

“I wasn’t sure if the shower would tire you out, but I do know you wouldn’t want to lay on dirty sheets after getting cleaned up.”

“Did you cook, too?” Barba’s stomach rumbled at the smell of eggs.

“Yeah, nothing too fancy, cheese omelet and fried potatoes, we’ll see how much you can handle. You should drink some more Pedialyte to help replenish your—”

“How are you single?”

“Ha, ha. Funny,” Carisi said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious.” Barba felt remarkably better now that he’d showered and shaved and scrubbed his mouth clean, and his brain was functioning properly again in spite of his hunger. Luckily his erection had disappeared on its own—he’d been worried about the hot massage of the shower, but his body was likely too tired and depleted to maintain the arousal, and he was glad—and Carisi was redressed in his clothes from the day before, also evidently boner-free.

But Carisi’s words kept coming back to Barba: _I just want more, now._

“How are _you_ —” Barba waved a hand up and down in the air to indicate Carisi’s body.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Bullshit, I’m a pain in the ass, short, middle-aged and graying at an _alarming_ rate, we both know I’ve put on a few pounds—”

“No need to sell yourself to me,” Carisi interrupted, surprising Barba into a laugh.

Barba paused, considering his options. “Assuming my stomach doesn’t riot again, would you let me buy you dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? You mean a date?”

“Yes. If you’re not comfortable with that, I could order something here—”

“You don’t have to buy me dinner to fuck me.”

Barba blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“There’s no pressure. Yeah, I wanna go out, but if you don’t want that, I’ll still put out. I mean, not for anyone, y’know, but with you?”

Barba cleared his throat. “Good to know,” he managed. “Would you let me buy you dinner tonight?” he repeated.

Carisi smiled. “I can’t tonight. I volunteered to take Noah and Jesse trick-or-treating.” He frowned at the buzz of his phone and fished it from his pocket. “Tomorrow night?” he asked as he scanned the text.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“My ma says I can date on school nights, now,” Carisi said without looking up.

Barba laughed—a real laugh that made the previous day’s misery feel almost like a bad dream. “Alright, then. I’ll make a reservation? Seven?”

“Sounds good,” Carisi said. He met Barba’s eyes, and his expression was full of apology. “Look, I gotta go.”

“Oh. Sure. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s a family thing, no big deal—except I gotta show or it will be, y’know?” He paused, studying Barba for a few seconds. “You mind if I bring the kids by here for candy tonight?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You want me to throw the sheets in the washer?”

“No, I’ve got it, really. Thank you for…everything.”

“Okay, the food is on the stove, promise me you’ll take it slow. And promise you’ll call or text me if you start to feel sick or need help with anything.”

“Sure thing, Detective.”

Carisi crossed the distance between them. “And drink some more Pedialyte?”

Barba smiled, looking Carisi over as the younger man approached. “You going home to shave and change?”

“Nah, if anyone notices, I’ll just tell the truth.”

Barba cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not susceptible to blackmail.”

Carisi laughed. “That I woke up in the bed of a hot ADA,” he said. He shrugged a shoulder as he stopped in front of Barba. “Let them infer what they want.” He bent his head closer. “You smell _much_ better, by the way.”

“I’m sure I’d taste better, too.” Barba smirked. “Hypothetically,” he added.

“Huh.” Carisi smiled crookedly. “Maybe I should make my move, now—I might not get another shot after you see my costume tonight.”

Barba swallowed, his eyes dropping to Carisi’s mouth. “You’re going to be wearing a costume?”

“Sure. I’m cool and fun.” Carisi grinned at the laugh that bubbled out of Barba’s throat. “See you tonight?”

“Yes.”

Carisi leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of Barba’s mouth for a moment. “By the way? The gray hair is hot and as for whether or not you’ve gained weight, all I know is I have long legs and I want to wrap them around you.”

“Fuck,” Barba said on a surprised breath.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Carisi answered. “See you later, Raf.”

Barba stared after Carisi for a few seconds as the detective walked away. “Thanks for stopping by, Sonny,” he said, smiling at the sound of Carisi’s answering chuckle.

 

*       *       *

 

Barba opened his door.

“Trick or treat,” the two kids said in unison.

“Hello—” Barba started, but his smile slid into an expression of stunned disbelief. After a small, choked sound, he said, “What the—” He cut himself off again, aware of the kids standing beside Carisi.

“Go ahead and laugh if you want,” Carisi said.

Laughing was the furthest thing from Barba’s mind as he—quite helplessly—dragged his gaze up the length of the detective’s body. He swallowed hard and was sure Carisi could probably hear the catch in his throat. Barba suddenly felt far too warm in his jeans and sweater, and there wasn’t an intelligent string of words to be found within a mile of his tongue.

Carisi was in tight green pants, if they could even be _considered_ pants—they looked like they were painted on, clinging to every line of his legs. The crotch was black, in the shape of underwear, to lend a modicum of decency, but those two layers of tight spandex wouldn’t be much barrier—

Barba shoved that thought away. There were children present.

The orange top of Carisi’s costume was just as tight as the bottom, defining his abs and the angles of his hipbones. Barba had seen Carisi in nothing but boxers, and somehow this costume seemed _more_ revealing. The green fins on his wrists and calves were incidental, and Barba barely noticed them. Or the trident in Carisi’s hand. The detective’s hair was swoopier than usual, fluffed. Barba wanted to tangle his hands into those waves and—

He shook his head to clear away the inappropriate thought. His eyes found Carisi’s, and the detective’s blue gaze held a sparkle of amusement. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his lips tipped upward, deepening his dimples.

“We told him he doesn’t look anything like Aquaman,” Jesse said.

“Oh. He does,” Barba said, glad that his brain was able to make a few words.

Carisi’s smile stretched into a grin. “This is the Aquaman from _my_ childhood,” he said.

Barba looked at the kids because he had to get his eyes off the other man before he really embarrassed himself. “He’s right, this is how he used to look.”

Jesse rolled her eyes at Noah. “The old person one,” she said, and Noah laughed.

“Hey now,” Carisi said mildly. Barba met his eyes again—he had no control over himself, it seemed—and Carisi said, “This morning I was young, tonight I’m old.” He cast Barba a quick wink.

Barba nearly choked but recovered himself quickly. He lowered his chin, spearing Carisi with a look that made the detective’s pupils widen. “It’s all about perspective,” Barba said. He turned his attention back to the kids. “I recognize you, Han Solo,” he told Noah, eyeing the costume. Barba was secretly proud that he’d gotten the boy interested in Star Wars. He looked at Jesse. “I’m not sure who you are, though?”

“I’m a zombie princess!” she proclaimed proudly.

“Ah,” he laughed. “Of course, how could I miss that?”

“We need candy, Uncle Rafa!” Noah said.

Barba gestured toward the kitchen and stepped aside. “You know where it is, take what you want.”

The kids took off at a run, but Carisi called after them, “Uhn-uh, one each.”

“Get inside before someone calls the police on this costume,” Barba said, and Carisi laughed softly as he stepped into the apartment. Barba closed the door and glanced down the length of Carisi’s body again. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I hope this was thoroughly cleaned after whoever else had it tucked up into all their crevices.”

Carisi threw his head back to laugh, and it took all of Barba’s willpower not to attack his exposed throat. “No one else has ever worn it,” Carisi said after a moment. “It’s not a rental.”

“You… _own this_?” Barba asked incredulously.

Carisi grinned at him for a moment, before looking toward the kitchen and saying, “What did I say? One piece of candy.”

“Uncle Raf said take what we want,” Jesse said, turning around to scowl at Carisi. She looked from him to Barba and back with narrowed eyes. “What one of you is the boss?” she asked.

“Uncle Rafa,” Noah supplied without hesitation.

Barba looked at Carisi and smirked, and Carisi smiled as he flushed into his dimples. Barba looked back at the kids. “He has veto power,” he told them.

“What’s that?” Jesse asked.

“It means Uncle Sonny can say no,” Noah said.

Barba heard Carisi make a small sound in his throat but didn’t dare look over at the detective. “That’s right, good one, Noah,” he said instead. “I don’t know much about kids, so if I tell you you can do something, he can override me if it’s dangerous. For example—is it okay for you to juggle knives?”

“No,” Noah laughed.

“Whew,” Barba said, “it’s a good thing I asked! I was just about to suggest we try! But luckily your Uncle Sonny would’ve vetoed the idea, I’m sure.”

Jesse processed that for a moment. “But candy isn’t dangerous,” she said hopefully.

“Sorry,” Barba laughed, “his veto stands. But, um…” He bent down and motioned with a hand, and Jesse and Noah crossed over to him. Barba leaned his head between theirs and whispered into their ears before straightening.

Jesse looked at Carisi. “Can we negotiate a deal?” she asked.

Carisi crossed his arms over his chest. Barba’s gaze slipped from the bulge of his biceps to the less obvious bulge of his crotch and quickly away.

“What’s your offer?” Carisi asked the girl.

“You can have…all my Starbursts,” she suggested.

“I don’t like Starbursts,” Carisi answered.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“All of your Reese’s peanut butter cups.”

“But we might get a _million_ ,” she objected. She glanced at Barba and he gave an encouraging wink.

“Do it,” Noah told Jesse. “Uncle Rafa’s candy is better.”

She sighed. “Okay, deal,” she said. Carisi held out a hand and she shook first, then Noah. The adults watched the kids hurry over and divide the candy between their two buckets.

“They just took all your very expensive candy,” Carisi murmured.

“Don’t worry, I only got out what I was willing to give them,” Barba answered, sounding amused. “And I have the cheaper stuff if any other kids show up.” He turned toward Carisi. “Speaking of which, you hate peanut butter cups.”

“Yeah,” Carisi agreed. He smiled crookedly and Barba wanted to lick his tongue into that goddamned dimple. “But you inexplicably love ’em and I might need something to negotiate with later.”

“Hmm,” Barba said. “Later? I can promise I’ll be feeling…very generous.”

Carisi’s grin widened. “I can guarantee I won’t be using my veto power,” he answered. “You feeling good? Got your strength back up?”

Barba opened his mouth, but before he could respond Noah said, “Will you come with us, Uncle Rafa?”

Barba looked at the boy. “What, trick-or-treating?” he asked, surprised, and Noah nodded. “No, I’m not going, I’m just contributing to the sugar rush.”

“ _Pleeease_ ,” Noah said. “It’ll be _fuuuunnn_.”

Barba chuckled. “I’m sure,” he agreed, glancing at Carisi. “But, uh…I don’t even have a costume.”

“Most adults don’t wear them,” Noah answered helpfully.

Barba met Carisi’s eyes for only a moment. “No, just the cool, fun ones,” he said, looking back at the kids. “Anyway, you don’t want the grumpy old guy tagging along—”

“You’re not grumpy,” Noah laughed.

“You do need a costume, though,” Jesse said, frowning in concentration as though it had already been decided that Barba would be joining them. “You don’t got _nothing_?”

“I don’t have anything, no,” Barba said. “Sorry.”

Jesse sighed. “Well…you can have my tiara,” she said. “And…” She looked over Noah. “Your gun thingy?”

“I won’t be Han, then,” Noah objected. He looked down at his holster and considered. “But…okay…”

“No, no, keep it,” Barba reassured him. “We can’t go breaking up Han Solo’s look.”

“You can take my trident,” Carisi offered, smiling too-innocently when Barba shot him a dirty look.

“That’s a _quinquedent_ ,” Barba said.

Carisi rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

“Do you have any Halloween shirts, Uncle Rafa?” Noah asked.

“Halloween shirts?” Barba considered. “No…”

“Ugly Christmas sweater?” Carisi suggested.

Barba blinked at him.

“That’ll work,” Jesse said. “Here.” She held up the tiara and Barba, feeling blindsided and bemused, crouched down and let her poke the small plastic crown into his hair. “Hurry, Uncle Raf, we’re gonna miss all the candy.”

Carisi took Barba’s arm to help him straighten—they both knew it was simply an excuse to touch each other. Barba looked at him. “I’m not going.”

Carisi laughed. “Looks like you already agreed,” he said. “Best get that sweater, Counsellor. Or…is it Your Highness, now?”

Barba’s eyes narrowed. “How did you let this happen?” he asked quietly.

Carisi, with his hand still on Barba’s arm, leaned toward him. He put his lips close to Barba’s ear, his breath soft and warm as he said, “You kidding? They saved me having to ask.”

Barba’s skin prickled and he barely suppressed a shiver.

“You won’t have to give away any more candy if you’re not home,” Carisi added.

“I can simply not answer the door,” Barba countered, cocking an eyebrow, but there was no longer any doubt that he was going. He did have to maintain a _little_ dignity, though. He paused before offering a long-suffering sigh, pointedly ignoring Carisi’s knowing, self-satisfied smile. “Come on, _mi niños_ , help me find my sweater.”

“Is it really ugly?” Noah asked as the kids flanked him.

“Atrocious,” Barba said, and he heard Carisi’s laughter behind him.

 

*       *       *

 

It really was a terribly ugly Christmas sweater, Carisi thought as he watched the kids dump their Halloween candy onto Barba’s living room floor. It was also a tad tight around the middle, as Barba had gained a few pounds in the last year or two. Barba was self-conscious about it; throughout the evening, he’d strolled with typical swagger, rocking his Christmas sweater and sparkly tiara and trident—quinquident—as though the world should be thanking him for the glorious gift of his outfit.

But Carisi saw him tug at the bottom of the sweater a few times, saw him brush a hand across his stomach. To Carisi, Barba had never been more attractive. The fact that he’d worn Jesse’s tiara all evening, without a hint of objection, only made Carisi want him more—something he wouldn’t have thought possible.

They’d spent the past two hours trick-or-treating with the kids. Barba was far better with them than he seemed to realize, and they loved him. _I might love him, too_ , Carisi thought, even though they hadn’t yet kissed or been on a single date. Carisi had shelved his interest in Barba for years, convinced the other man couldn’t possibly want him as anything more than a friend and colleague. But now? To know that Barba found him attractive? Carisi could feel hope blooming inside of him. He didn’t want to appear desperate, but if he had a chance with Barba then he certainly wasn’t going to play hard-to-get.

He watched Barba lower himself to the floor to sit, cross-legged, across the pile of candy from the kids. For all his jokes about being old, and despite the tightness of the sweater, Barba was remarkably graceful and agile. He seemed to have good knees.

Carisi smiled at the thought. If the night ended with one of them on their knees, it wasn’t going to be Rafael Barba.

Barba looked up the length of Carisi’s body; the man had legs that went on for days and no matter how hard he tried, Barba couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around him. For hours, he and Carisi had been casually brushing arms, walking just a bit too closely, and Barba hadn’t felt a bit of the autumn chill in the air.

Carisi looked down at him and smiled. In a few minutes, after they’d sorted through the kids’ candy, Carisi would take Noah and Jesse home. He and Barba hadn’t discussed it yet, but Barba knew Carisi would drop the kids off and return to Barba’s apartment.

Carisi folded himself down to the floor. His lack of self-consciousness about the tight costume was alarmingly attractive to Barba. He didn’t want Carisi to know _quite_ how eager he was to get his hands on the detective’s body, but he also wasn’t going to hide his desire and give the younger man any reason to doubt it, so he offered Carisi a lopsided smile when their eyes met.

“Alright, let’s see what we got, here,” Carisi said, rubbing his hands together and turning his attention to the candy. The kids had already separated out all of the Reese’s and they seemed to be dividing the rest into two piles. One pile was primarily chocolate while the other was gaining most of the licorice and gummies and suckers. “Wait,” Carisi said, grabbing a package of Sour Patch watermelon gummies from the mostly-chocolate pile. He flipped it over to read the back.

“They’re pink and green,” Jesse said.

“Yeah, I know, but…” Carisi trailed off, his eyes scanning the ingredients. “Red forty, sorry, Jess. That orange sucker is probably no good, either. But—” He tossed the Sour Patch into the other pile and grabbed a bag of organic gummy bears. “You can have these,” he said after a moment, transferring them into the chocolate.

“Even the red ones?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yep. They use carrot powder for coloring. You can have those licorice, too—not the Red Vines but these ones you can. But…not the Good & Plenty.” He looked at Barba, registered his questioning look, and said, “Jess is allergic to the red dye. Red number forty. Unfortunately it’s in a lot of stuff—almost everything red that’s not organic, plus orange and pink and purple…Everything has to be checked.”

“So she gets almost all the chocolate,” Noah said.

“I’m glad you have a system,” Barba answered, watching as Carisi helped the kids make quick work of sorting the candy into things that Jesse could or could not consume. Noah’s pile was considerably larger, but Jesse seemed content with her collection as they loaded the candy into their respective buckets to take home. “Hey—caramel nut clusters!” Barba suddenly exclaimed, reaching out and snatching up one of the packages of candy before Jesse could gather it up.

“Nut clusters?” Carisi repeated, his voice full of barely-suppressed laughter.

“I wasn’t allowed to have anything with walnuts in the house as a kid—my mother’s allergic.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Carisi said, holding up a hand. “I just didn’t realize you were such a fan of… _nut clusters_.”

“Alright, waterboy,” Barba said, leveling him with a dark look.

Noah started cackling, rolling onto his back. After a moment Jesse copied him, holding her stomach and laughing, which made Carisi laugh.

“I’m not sure you’re in a position to poke fun at costumes,” the detective chuckled, casting a pointed look at Barba’s sweater. Barba sighed, which only seemed to add to Carisi’s amusement.

“Go ahead, make fun,” Barba said, but there was no real bitterness behind the words. Carisi didn’t have a single mean bone in his lanky body.

“Who, me?” Carisi returned with a good-natured smile. He paused. “Alright, I should get them back to their mothers. Do you, uh…wanna keep that?” he asked, jerking his chin upward to indicate the tiara that Barba had forgotten was still in his hair.

“Oh. Well, it’s not really my size,” Barba answered. Carisi leaned toward him and reached up, then hesitated, checking Barba’s face for permission before carefully pulling the plastic crown from the older man’s hair.

His fingers brushed Barba’s scalp and it was all Barba could do not to lean into the touch. It had been so long since someone had run their fingers through his hair; since anyone had taken the time to figure out what he wanted, what he liked. He wasn’t about to ask someone to pet his head like he was a fucking dog, but Carisi was a smart guy. Maybe if Barba just put his head against the detective’s hand—

Carisi tipped his head forward and murmured near Barba’s ear: “Your hair is always so perfect, I’ve spent a lot of time imagining what it would feel like to run my fingers through it.”

Barba’s skin flushed. “Well?” he asked. His eyes dropped to Carisi’s lips as they curved into a smile.

“Uncle Sonny, I’m hungry,” Jesse said.

“Okay,” Carisi answered, turning away from Barba. He got to his feet quickly, and Barba spent a full five seconds staring at the spandex stretched tight over his perfectly-toned ass before realizing what he was doing. He jerked his gaze away; luckily the kids weren’t paying any attention. “Let’s get you two home so you can eat something other than sugar.”

“Oh,” Barba said, glancing at his watch. “Right, wait about two more minutes.”

Carisi looked down at him and held out a hand. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t ask why in spite of the small, puzzled frown marring his forehead.

Barba let Carisi pull him to his feet, but before he could say anything else there was a knock on the door. Barba crossed the room quickly and pulled the door open.

Carisi was expecting some trick-or-treat stragglers, but he watched in surprise as the guy outside the door gave Barba three large pizza boxes. The pizzas were already paid for, but Barba gave the delivery man an extra twenty dollar tip, thanked him for his punctuality, and pushed the door closed.

When Barba turned around, Carisi lifted his eyebrows. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Pizza!” Noah and Jesse shouted in unison.

“One for each of you to take home to your mothers,” Barba told them, smiling when they cheered. He looked at Carisi as the detective walked slowly toward him.

“If I take one home to _my_ mother, what’ll you eat?”

“Nut clusters,” Barba intoned without hesitation, and Carisi tipped his head back to laugh. _I’m going to suck on that throat before the night is over_ , Barba vowed to himself. “And Reese’s,” he added. He tilted his head a bit, his lips quirking. “Unless you’d like to share your pizza with me.”

“I think it’s the least I could do after you let us use your floor. And, you know, since you bought it.” Carisi winked at Noah and Jesse as they giggled. He looked at Barba. “Keep it warm for me and I’ll be back in forty-five?”

Barba gave him a full-wattage smirk. “Don’t break any traffic laws, Detective.”

 

*       *       *

 

Carisi pushed Barba against the bedroom wall, tugging his shirt from his jeans. “I kinda hoped you’d leave the sweater on,” he said as his hands found their way to Barba’s bare skin.

“It’s ugly and too small,” Barba muttered. He grabbed Carisi by the hair and tipped his head back, promptly burying his face against the detective’s throat. He made a sound of satisfaction as he got his lips against Carisi’s skin, finally. He tried to be mindful not to leave marks that would last until Monday, but the taste and smell of Carisi’s skin was intoxicating.

Carisi moaned, and the vibration against Barba’s lips went straight to Barba’s erection. “It’s cute on you,” Carisi gasped, his fingers momentarily digging into Barba’s sides. He made another sound, leaning into the other man as Barba ran his tongue over the stubble-roughened skin under Carisi’s jaw.

“Christ, you taste good,” Barba murmured. He tipped his face and pulled Carisi’s head down, plunging his tongue into the detective’s mouth.

Carisi had him pressed into the wall, and Barba could feel the considerable erection straining at the front of Carisi’s costume. Barba ran his hands over Carisi’s hips and waist while he kissed him, blindly searching for some way to open the clothing.

After a few moments, Barba pulled his tongue from the other man’s mouth and looked down, scowling. “How do you get this off?” he asked as he realized that the green bottom, orange top, and black crotch were actually all one piece. He ran his hands over Carisi’s hips again, pinching at the tight, slippery material as he made a sound of frustration.

“There’s a zipper in back,” Carisi said, but instead of turning around he sank into a crouch. Barba looked down in surprise and saw Carisi wince as something made a loud ripping sound.

“You alright?” Barba asked as Carisi worked to unbutton Barba’s fly. “Was that you or the costume?”

Carisi offered a breathless laugh, glancing up at him. “Think I just split the ass out.”

“That’s convenient,” Barba remarked.

Carisi laughed again. “Only one layer, I think. It’s reinforced. Which is good since I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Barba breathed, his back arching away from the wall as Carisi’s knuckles grazed the denim over his erection. “You went out in _public_ —”

“It’s reinforced,” Carisi repeated. “Or at least it was,” he laughed. “I’ve never seen you in these jeans before.” He shifted onto his knees.

“Yeah? And?”

“They fit you really fuckin well.”

“Not at the moment,” Barba answered drily. The sight of Carisi, kneeling before him, was overwhelming. He hadn’t even gotten to Barba’s cock yet and Barba was afraid he was going to come in his jeans.

“This okay?” Carisi asked as he lowered Barba’s bulging zipper.

“Shit,” Barba said, pushing his hips—involuntarily—toward the other man’s hands. “I might finish this race a little early,” he admitted, groaning as Carisi tugged his jeans down his hips. “Completing my cycle of embarrassment.”

“I promise to be nothing but flattered,” Carisi said, tucking his fingers into the waistband of Barba’s briefs. “Is this okay?” he asked again, pausing this time to look up at the other man’s face.

“Yes,” Barba said, but he caught Carisi’s chin with his fingers before the detective could duck forward. “In case this needs to be said—I still want to take you out to dinner.”

Carisi smiled up at him with his dimples dipping into his cheeks. He tugged at Barba’s underwear, and Barba made an involuntary sound as his erection sprang free. He saw Carisi rubbing at himself, running his palm over the double layer of spandex stretched tight over his own cock, but then Carisi’s mouth closed around him and Barba’s eyes rolled closed as his head dropped back against the wall. He fisted his hands in Carisi’s hair, focusing all of his effort on not immediately spilling himself in the detective’s mouth.

“God, you’re—good at this,” he managed after a minute, his voice rough as he tried to control his lust. “Wait,” he said with a note of desperation, pulling at Carisi’s hair, and the detective released him, looking up as he swiped an arm over his glistening lips. “Come here.”

Carisi rose with enviable grace, but he winced, kicking one foot out a little to relieve the pinch at his crotch. He kissed Barba eagerly for long moments, and didn’t resist when Barba broke away and pushed him forward against the wall. Barba ran his fingers over the split seam down the middle of Carisi’s ass, and Carisi spread his feet on the floor, pressing his forehead against the wall.

“I think you ruined your costume,” Barba murmured, pushing his fingers against the remaining layer of spandex.

“Unghh—I’m gonna ruin the front, too,” Carisi gasped.

Barba reached up and grabbed the zipper tab at the top of the outfit, trying to tug it down. It didn’t budge, and he grabbed Carisi’s collar between the fingers of his left hand, pulling harder.

“I’m gonna—shit, I’m gonna come in my—I need you to fuck me, please, Raf—”

“I’m trying to get this off, it’s stuck.” He pulled at Carisi’s collar, and Carisi’s hips stuttered forward toward the wall as he moaned.

“I just had it undone at Amanda’s to use the bathroom—God, it’s too tight, I’m gonna—I can’t stop myself,” he said, but he reached down and squeezed himself, hard, trying to curb his impending orgasm.

“I’m sorry. Damn it.”

“Just fuck me through it.”

“What?”

“It’s too late, I’m gonna come in here, I just—please, I want you inside me.”

Barba made a strangled sound, his cock twitching in the air. He ran his fingers along the inner seam over Carisi’s ass again, pushing, feeling the give of the strained stitches. It would rip open with a little help.

Barba grabbed Carisi’s waist and pulled him back, turning him away from the wall to kiss him. Carisi moaned into his mouth; he was still holding tightly to his cock through the spandex, stalling his release.

“Are you sure?” Barba asked. “I can cut this damned thing off you—”

“Later,” Carisi breathed.

“I might come on myself trying to get the condom on,” Barba laughed. He pushed Carisi gently toward the bed, following him.

“You don’t need—I’m clean, I swear,” Carisi said. “I haven’t…It’s been a while.” Barba saw his throat work as he swallowed, and he pulled Carisi’s head down for another kiss. Barba hadn’t felt this frantic and _horny_ in a very long time, and he was flattered that Carisi was equally as eager.

Carisi shifted his hips away; any contact would send him tumbling over the edge. Barba turned him and pushed him again, and Carisi eagerly dropped forward onto his free hand on the mattress, spreading his feet.

“If I’m still sick and this is some sort of lucid fever-dream, I don’t ever want to wake up,” Barba said as he ran his gaze over Carisi, braced with his ass in the air and his hand grasped tight to the outline of his cock.

Carisi laughed breathlessly, but it turned into a choked sound as Barba took hold of the inner layer of spandex and unceremoniously yanked it open with a loud rending sound. The seam ripped apart along the crack of Carisi’s ass to just behind his heavy testicles, releasing some of the pressure on Carisi’s erection, and he squeezed himself tighter, panting.

“Please,” was all he could manage to gasp.

Barba moved quickly, grabbing lubrication from the nightstand and applying a liberal dose to his throbbing cock. He was close, so close, himself. He made a silent promise to himself that he would last longer the next time.

He rubbed his fingers over Carisi’s opening, spreading the lube around his hole. He pushed a finger inside and Carisi shoved his hips backward, whimpering in desperation.

“Okay,” Barba told him, grabbing his spandex-clad hip with his left hand to steady them both. He pushed the flared head of his cock against Carisi’s opening and hesitated. He moved slowly, stretching Carisi open, forcing his way in slowly. “You’re so tight,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, Sonny, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can—I can take it,” Carisi promised roughly. “I want you…”

Barba paused. He was less than halfway in, and his body was trembling as he tried to control himself. He could feel Carisi’s body shaking. “Let yourself come,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over Carisi’s back. The suit was smooth beneath his hand, and he could feel the ridge of Carisi’s spine.

“Fuck me,” Carisi countered. His head was hanging low beside his arm. Barba couldn’t see his face and found himself wishing he could. _Next time_ , he vowed. Carisi tried to push himself backward.

“Okay—ready?” Barba asked.

“Yeah,” Carisi said on a breathless laugh.

Barba grabbed both of the other man’s hips and entered him with a quick thrust, grunting as Carisi’s body tightened reflexively around him. Carisi cried out, dropping onto his elbow.

“Okay?” Barba asked.

“Yeah—yes—fuck.” Carisi let go of himself and reached back to grab at Barba’s leg, instead.

Barba drew back and flexed his hips again, filling Carisi completely, and Carisi’s body jerked forward until his thighs hit the edge of the mattress. His knees gave out and he sank down to the bed, and Barba followed him down with a strangled curse, buried inside Carisi’s ass. Carisi rutted helplessly against the comforter as he came inside his costume, his semen soaking through the spandex.

“Raf,” he said on something close to a sob.

Barba shuddered as he came, pulsing inside Carisi’s body. “Sonny,” he answered as the spasms passed through him, stunning him with the intensity of his orgasm. He collapsed against the detective’s back, still trembling as he tried to catch his breath. He knew he had to get off Carisi before he hurt him, but for a few moments he had no strength to move.

“You okay?” Carisi mumbled into the blanket.

“Me? Are you?”

“You need some more Pedialyte?” Carisi asked, turning his face and looking upward from the corner of his eye.

Barba laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Carisi’s back before struggling to lever himself up. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Hold on, I’m sorry,” he said as he withdrew carefully from Carisi’s ass.

Carisi drew a ragged breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the detective said. His body was trembling. “I’m afraid to move.”

“I’m sorry if I—”

“No, it’s not that,” Carisi assured him quickly. “I just, um…everything is really tight and—and wet, now, and the friction is…intense.”

“Can you walk to the bathroom? I’ll get you out of this thing.”

“Yeah,” Carisi said, carefully pushing himself up. He shivered but got his legs to support him and straightened. He turned and grabbed Barba’s head, quickly covering his mouth with a frantic kiss, and Barba—surprised—leaned into him for a moment. “Can’t wait to see you at full-strength,” Carisi murmured against the other man’s lips, suddenly grinning.

“I can’t wait to see you, period,” Barba said, glancing down Carisi’s body, and the younger man laughed. “Come on, let me cut and peel this fucking thing off you and we’ll take a shower.”

“We should really eat some of that pizza, too,” Carisi said as he walked gingerly toward the bathroom. “You do need to keep your strength up after yesterday.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you do all the work next time,” Barba answered, shooting Carisi a crooked smirk.

Carisi laughed, his eyes shining with silent promise.

 

*       *       *

 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Barba answered without hesitation. After the word had slipped past his lips, he reflected for a few seconds on how unusual it was for him to feel so open with another person. He was curled against Carisi’s side, his head on the detective’s shoulder, and Carisi was absently running his fingers through the damp hair at Barba’s temple.

“Good, ’cause I don’t know what the hell I’m s’posed to wear outta here,” Carisi murmured sleepily.

Barba answered with a soft snort. “We can figure it out tomorrow. I’m sure I have some sweats that’ll work well enough to get you home.”

“Then I’ll change before our first date,” Carisi said, and Barba could hear the smile in his voice.

“Second date. This counts.”

“Does it?” Carisi joked.

“I’ll never admit to letting you seduce me _before_ our first date, so yes.”

“Me, seduce _you_?” Carisi laughed.

They fell silent, each relaxing into the heat and comfort of the other as they drifted toward sleep. After a minute, Barba muttered, “I guess I don’t have to dream about you tonight.”

“Well, if you do, I’ll be right here to finish whatever dream-me started,” Carisi answered, and Barba smiled. “I like playing with your hair,” Carisi said. “Does this bother you?”

“No,” Barba replied, the word barely audible.

Carisi hesitated, his fingers stilling. He tipped his head so he could see Barba’s face. “Do you like it?” he asked softly.

“Mmhm,” Barba answered, closing his eyes. He felt Carisi press a kiss to his head, and Barba snuggled closer. He might be embarrassed by his neediness in the morning, but for now he was too content and comfortable to care.

Carisi ran his fingers through Barba’s hair, his touch slow and gentle, until Barba was asleep, and then Carisi followed him into the land of dreams.

 

 

**DECEMBER**

 

Barba knew that he was in love with Carisi before they spent Christmas evening with the detective’s family, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about it. They’d been dating for almost two months. Benson, Rollins, Dodds, and McCoy knew. Carisi’s family knew. Barba’s mother did not.

She’d met Carisi before, and liked him well enough. He was polite, respectful, and charming, why wouldn’t she? But while she’d more or less come to accept that she couldn’t do anything to keep her son from occasionally dating men, that didn’t mean she’d given up her hope of him one day marrying a nice young woman who could give her the grandkids she’d always wanted.

So, yes, Barba knew that he loved Carisi, but it wasn’t until Christmas night when he really and truly understood. He was hopelessly and irrevocably in love. He was smart enough to know that he and Carisi might not be destined to spend their lives together. They hadn’t discussed the future, or children—because even without discussing it, Barba knew that Carisi wanted to be a father, and Carisi knew that Barba…didn’t.

Maybe the reason he’d resisted putting a label on his feelings was because he knew how fundamentally _foolish_ it was for him to tumble head over heels into love with a gorgeous younger man who wanted all the things that Barba had decided long ago weren’t in his future: a wedding, kids, a dog, a house with a backyard, PTA meetings, watching the sunset from a porch swing while they rocked slowly, heads bent together…

Maybe Barba just wanted to pretend for a little while. To just keep his head in the sand and enjoy the present, and the way he felt when he was with Carisi. The way Carisi _made_ him feel, like he was beautiful and funny and kind and the most important person in Carisi’s world.

The realization came when Carisi and his sisters got up in front of their entire family to reenact their childhood routine of performing “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” It wasn’t because Carisi was, surprisingly, the best singer of the siblings, or because he was the only one who didn’t mess up a single word of the song, or because he drew attention to himself every time one of his sisters made a mistake. Or because he performed without inhibition in spite of the blush in his cheeks. Or because his long and clumsy-looking body was full of understated grace. Or because he was the one person that everyone in the family turned to for help and that he did every task, big or small, with a smile and without complaint. Or because all of his nieces and nephews and cousins’ kids adored him.

Carisi met Barba’s eyes in the middle of the last verse of the song; that in itself wasn’t a surprise, as his eyes had a tendency to seek out Barba’s gaze wherever they were, and he’d already looked at him several times in just the span of the song. But he looked at Barba, catching his gaze—because Barba hadn’t been able to look away from him for a solid two minutes—and there was a look in his eyes that Barba had never seen him give another person. Carisi gave a lot of himself to everyone, and without hesitation, but Barba realized in that moment that he had a piece of Carisi that no one else had.

Barba had never been loved by anyone the way Carisi loved him—and even though they hadn’t said the words, he had no doubt that Carisi did love him. _I don’t want to break his heart_ , Barba thought. _He deserves so much more than I can give him_.

As soon as they’d finished the song, and the cacophony of cheers and whistles from the robust family had died down, one of Carisi’s sisters—Barba didn’t see which, because he was still staring at Carisi—called for Barba to play something on the piano. His ability to play—although he was out of practice—had come up in conversation over dinner, but now he blinked in surprise, looking around as though coming out of a trance.

“Me?” he asked, realizing that everyone seemed to be looking at him. He shook his head. “Oh, I—It’s been years, I don’t—”

“Come on, you can do it!”

Barba felt his face heating as everyone started shouting encouragement. In a moment, Carisi was sitting beside him, leaned in close with his arm around Barba’s shoulders.

“Nah, leave him be,” the detective said. “It’s bad enough he’s gotta put up with all our craziness, you don’t need to try to embarrass him.”

“He said he could play!” one of Carisi’s cousins objected. “We’re not embarrassing him. Are we, Rafael?”

“Uncle Mark can play the song,” Carisi answered.

“Look at Sonny, all protective,” someone cooed, and then the whole family was laughing.

Barba looked at Carisi. Everything about his posture and expression was defensive, and he would do battle with his entire family on Barba’s behalf. “Sonny,” Barba said quietly, and Carisi’s head turned toward him. Carisi opened his mouth—probably to apologize for his family—and Barba kissed him, snaking his fingers into Carisi’s hair. Carisi’s breath caught in surprise, and his arm tightened around Barba’s shoulders.

They hadn’t kissed in front of anyone, yet. Not family, not their friends, not strangers in a restaurant. It wasn’t because Barba was ashamed of their relationship; on the contrary, walking with Carisi’s hand in his filled him with pride as nothing else ever had. A part of him wanted to shout from the rooftops, to let everyone in the city know that Carisi had chosen to be with _him_. But it wasn’t so simple. Barba had learned from hard lessons that it was best to keep a part of himself shielded from the world, and it wasn’t just himself he was trying to protect.

It wasn’t even _primarily_ himself, now.

Carisi’s family cheered the kiss, surprising Barba. He knew some of them hadn’t always been so accepting, but they’d come around because they loved Carisi. They were what a family should be.

“I’ll do it, it’s fine,” Barba said when he pulled back to look at the younger man’s face. His hand was still in Carisi’s hair, and he stroked his thumb over the detective’s flushed cheek, holding his bright stare. “Come sit with me, we can play something together.”

“I’m terrible on piano,” Carisi laughed, but he got to his feet.

Barba stood and looped his arm through Carisi’s. “We can muddle our way through together,” he said. “We can sing ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside,’ if you want. But…you have to start,” he added with a smirk and a wink.

“‘I really can’t stay?’ Well, I can try to play hard to get,” Carisi said with a grin, “but we both know it’ll be an act.” Before Barba could answer, Carisi bent forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

 

*       *       *

 

Later that night, when they were lying in Barba’s bed, Carisi said, “I’ve never made out with a guy in front of my family before.”

Barba gave him a _look_ , and said, “We didn’t _make out_.” He let out an _oof_ when Carisi suddenly rolled over on top of him and straddled his hips.

“You know what I mean,” Carisi said, and Barba did. “Anyway, it was nice, right? Dinner, I mean. Everything?”

“Your family is great, Sonny,” Barba assured him.

“They love you, you know?” Carisi asked, staring down at him in the dimness. “I mean, really. My sisters said they never saw anyone make me happier and, well, obviously _I_ know that’s true but I guess I don’t hide it so well…”

Barba smiled. “You? Hide your feelings?” he teased. “Babe, you wear your heart on your sleeve.” He saw something shift in the shadows of Carisi’s face, and realized that his words hadn’t landed the way he’d intended. “Hey,” he said, reaching up to touch Carisi’s face. “I mean that as a compliment, Sonny. It’s why people love you.”

Carisi leaned forward, drawing another grunt from Barba, and propped himself on his elbows. Their faces were inches apart, their boxers-clad crotches and bare stomachs pressed together, the blankets folded back to the foot of the bed. “I know I can be a lot for you sometimes,” Carisi said. “And the last thing I wanna do is scare you away.”

“Sonny.”

“Raf, I love you. You prolly know it but I just need to say it. But I don’t need you to say it back. We’re here together, you know? We don’t need to talk about anything else, not until you’re ready. All I want is this right here, right now. I promise.”

“You deserve more,” Barba murmured, searching the other man’s face. He’d thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding his worry, but he should’ve known better. Carisi was too smart, and knew him too well, not to have seen it. “I don’t want to ruin what we have—”

“Rafael.” Carisi shifted a bit so he could cup his hands to Barba’s face. “Honey, I know you,” he said softly. “I might wear my heart on my sleeve, but yours? Yours is tucked just _inside_ your sleeve.” He smiled at Barba’s quiet snort. “I won’t tell anyone,” Carisi whispered, earning himself an actual laugh from the man beneath him. “Don’t worry so much, huh?”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Barba admitted.

“Yeah. Well…don’t worry about _me_ , at least, or us.”

“I worry about you most of all,” Barba said.

Smiling, Carisi bent his head down, pressing his forehead against Barba’s. “I know,” he answered. He touched his lips to Barba’s. “Merry Christmas, Raf.” He kissed him again, letting his lips linger a few seconds. “Thank you for spending the evening with my crazy family.”

Barba had gone to Christmas Mass with his own mother, had spent most of the morning with her and had an early meal before joining Carisi. They’d gathered up a trunkload of presents from Barba’s apartment—he and Carisi had wrapped them there, together, using the excuse that Barba had more space—and spent the rest of the holiday with the Carisi clan.

Not once had Carisi guilted Barba for not inviting him to spend time with Lucia. Barba had guilted himself, but Carisi? Not him.

“Sonny.”

“Yeah,” Carisi answered, brushing their lips together.

“I want you inside me.”

Carisi lifted his head a bit so he could see Barba’s face. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Carisi said before kissing him again.

 

 

**FEBRUARY**

 

On Valentine’s Day, Barba asked Carisi to move in with him. In some ways, it was just a gesture—Carisi spent a minimum of three nights a week at Barba’s; he had a drawer in the dresser and a quarter of the closet for changes of clothes, he had a shelf in the bathroom cabinet and his own shampoo in the shower and the kitchen was chock-full of food, including a cupboard that now seemed solely designated to every imaginable kind of pasta; he even had a key, already—but Barba was still nervous about asking.

He knew it was unfair to expect Carisi to give up his apartment when Barba had given him no guarantees, made no real commitment. When he still hadn’t told his mother. They’d been together for three and a half months, and Barba tried to tell himself that wasn’t _that_ long, but he couldn’t fool himself. Maybe it wasn’t that long, but Barba had never asked anyone to live with him. His feelings for Carisi were unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The fact that he’d kept the relationship a secret from his mother had begun to feel more and more like a betrayal.

Carisi’s sisters often sent Barba random memes and funny videos during the day. They’d invited him to brunch to gossip about their brother, but he hadn’t yet accepted. He knew they would ask him about his intentions and he wasn’t ready to answer those questions.

In three short months, he’d come to hate the nights he had to sleep alone. No matter how long or difficult his day, seeing Carisi’s smile at the end of it made everything better—and, for reasons Barba still couldn’t quite fathom, _he_ seemed to cheer _Carisi_ after a trying day, too.

So, Barba bought a sappy, romantic card and he signed it _Love, Rafael_ even though he hadn’t yet said _I love you_ aloud. He bought two dozen of the nicest-looking roses he could find after checking three different florist shops. He ordered Carisi’s favorite meal from one takeout place and dessert from another.

In the end, his nervousness and insecurity got the best of him, and he made a joke: “If you want to stay here all the time, I’m willing to negotiate closet space—maybe bump you all the way up to a third.”

“Move in?” Carisi asked after a moment.

Barba nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waited for Carisi’s reaction. Realization dawned quickly, and Carisi’s whole face lit up. For a few moments, Barba felt like an asshole. _He asks for so little_ , he thought. But Carisi pushed him against the wall and kissed away his worries, and then took him to bed. By the time they came up for air, the food was cold and the champagne was warm, and Barba had a live-in boyfriend for the first time in his life.

 

 

**APRIL**

 

Carisi closed the door and stood before it, looking at Barba. He cleared his throat carefully, but his voice was still hoarse when he said: “What’re you doing here?”

“Hello to you, too,” Barba answered, glancing over the top of his glasses. He was sitting at the kitchen table with several files opened across the surface. He returned his attention to his legal pad, scratching out a few words. “I decided to finish some paperwork here. You’re home early.”

Carisi sniffed. “Liv sent me home.”

“Hmm,” Barba said without looking up. “Good for her.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“Did you say something?”

“Say something?”

“You wanna look at me when we’re talking, or what?”

Barba raised his head and regarded Carisi for a few seconds. He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, lifting his eyebrows. “I’m looking at you.”

Carisi narrowed his puffy eyes. “Did you talk to Liv about me?”

“I talk about you far more frequently than I’d like to admit,” Barba answered calmly. “Is there something specific you’d like to ask?”

“You know what I’m asking.” Carisi turned his face, coughing into his elbow. He sniffed again. His eyes were leaking, and Barba could see the redness of his nose from across the room. “Did you tell her to send me home?”

Barba waited several beats before responding. “I’m rarely foolish enough to tell Liv to do anything. I’m sure it would go over swimmingly if I—”

“I’m fine.”

“—suggested she send one of her lead detectives home because—”

“It’s just a _cold_.” Carisi glared at Barba. “I don’t need my _boyfriend_ calling my _boss_ for me.” He coughed again. He waited, but Barba didn’t answer. “And you know, it’s awful suspicious that you just happen to be here when you’re s’posed to be at your office.” He was losing his voice, and his frustration was evident in the tight fist hanging at his side. He cleared his throat, but it was no use; his throat was raw, and coughing only made it worse. His head was pounding, his eyes were watering and scratchy, and his nose was runny and sore.

“The water on the stove is hot,” Barba said.

Carisi looked and saw that there was a mug set out with a box of tea bags and a bottle of honey. Clearly, his early arrival had not been a surprise. Carisi hugged his coat around himself. It was warm in the apartment, but he’d been shivering all morning. His body was achy.

He didn’t want to be angry with Barba, he wanted to crawl onto his lap, snuggle into his warmth, and go to sleep. He wanted to beg Barba to comfort him until he felt better, even though he knew Barba would never make him beg.

But with SVU, Carisi had finally found a place where he felt like he was respected. Sure, they’d given him a hard time in the beginning, but he’d proven himself—and he’d found a squad that wasn’t like the other “good ol’ boys” squads he’d known. He could be himself, and that was good enough for them.

Carisi had become an expert at laughing along when he was the butt of the joke, and most of the time it wasn’t even an act. He wasn’t without self-awareness. He knew he often came across as too eager, too talkative, too willing to let himself be used or insulted. His whole life, he’d been the punchline for _someone_ , but he knew the difference between words that were meant to wound and those that were meant to be teasing.

When he’d first transferred to Manhattan SVU, he’d worried that it would be the same thing all over again. They smiled at the sight of his mustache, they rolled their eyes at his eagerness, they cringed at the sound of his accent. But he’d thrown himself into the work with everything he had, and even though he’d made missteps and put his foot in his mouth a few times, he’d slowly begun to realize that in spite of the initial reactions, they didn’t ignore him when he spoke. They didn’t dismiss his ideas without consideration.

They didn’t react with disgust or cruelty when he, feigning nonchalance even though his stomach was full of nerves, casually mentioned a guy he’d once dated. Amaro and Rollins had given him a hard time for having a crush on Barba, but they’d never done so in a mean-spirited way, and they’d never said anything in front of Barba to intentionally embarrass or disparage Carisi.

And Barba had played a big part in Carisi’s settling in to SVU, too. He’d been snarky and rough-tongued in the beginning, and Carisi—with all his internalized self-doubts and desire to prove himself—had believed that the ADA was, at the very least, annoyed by Carisi. But when Barba had agreed to mentor him for the Bar, Carisi had quickly seen a different side of Barba and realized that his snark wasn’t a commentary on Carisi, or Barba’s feelings about him, but rather on Barba’s own internalized insecurities. Barba was almost always the smartest person in the room, but the desire to prove himself was just as ingrained in him as it was in Carisi.

Carisi had learned to laugh along with the jokes made at his expense. Barba had learned to deflect them with sarcasm and scorn. Once they’d started spending more time together, Carisi had begun to see the real Rafael Barba, and his crush had bloomed into outright infatuation. And now, he loved Barba with all his heart.

Carisi wasn’t the same scared, bullied kid anymore. He wasn’t the rookie who had to endure taunts from the people to whom he was supposed to be entrusting his life. He was a lead detective on a squad that he’d come to think of as family—and not just that, he was a _lawyer_. He’d been told repeatedly that he would never make it as a cop, and he’d proven all of those people wrong. He’d been told that he would never be able to be a cop _and_ finish law school, and he’d proven that he could. He didn’t have to put up with anyone’s bullshit, because he was no longer beholden to anyone or trapped in a toxic place. He had qualifications, and he had options.

But SVU was where he wanted to be, working for Lieutenant Benson, and even though he knew in his head that she respected and valued him, there was still a damaged piece of his heart that kicked into an uneven canter at the thought that it could all crumble around him, that it could be an illusion or some…cosmic joke at his expense.

He’d been happy to move in with Barba. He’d be happy to spend the rest of his life with him. He knew that Barba loved him, too, but Barba wasn’t ready to make the same commitment. That was alright—Carisi was content with what they had, and willing to give Barba as much time as he needed to work through his fears of commitment and intimacy.

It would be foolish and naïve to risk his career for someone he’d only been dating for six months, though.

Carisi sniffed and forced himself to shrug out of his coat in spite of his chill. He hung his jacket on a hook. “Thanks,” he said. There was no point arguing about it now, when he felt so terribly. All he wanted was comfort and affection, and his anger was sapping his strength. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he muttered, starting toward the bathroom. Later, when he felt better, he would broach the subject and explain to Barba how inappropriate it was for him to go to Benson, no matter how good his intentions.

Carisi walked into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and froze. Even through his runny nose, he could smell the lavender, and the room was full of steam. The bathtub was full of hot water, with a thick layer of scented bubbles shimmering on top.

His eyes and nose burned with real tears. He’d been miserable all morning, doing his best to make it through his tasks when all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head. Now, he knew he should still be upset with Barba, but the lure of the bath was too enticing to be ignored. Carisi stripped out of his clothes, dropping them onto the bathroom floor, and stepped into the hot water. The heat stung his skin, and he sank into it gratefully, letting the burn soothe his chilled muscles.

He closed his leaking eyes, leaning his thudding head back against the wall, and pulled in a wheezy breath. The steam would help with his sinuses, and the lavender would help with his nerves, and the heat would help with everything else.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Yeah,” Carisi said hoarsely. His anger was gone, leaving him feeling emotionally raw.

“May I come in?” Barba asked.

“Of course,” Carisi answered. He opened his eyes and looked over as Barba entered.

Barba had a mug of hot tea in his hands, and he hesitated in the middle of the small room, holding it up. “This’ll help your throat,” he said. He looked and sounded uncertain, and he moved forward slowly. “I’ll just…leave it here,” he added, reaching down to set it on the edge of the bathtub.

“Thank you,” Carisi mumbled.

“I’ll…be in the other room if you need anything,” Barba said. He chewed his lip for a moment, his eyes scanning Carisi’s face.

“Sorry I bit your head off,” Carisi said.

Barba shook his head. “I can see why you’d be upset if you thought I went to Liv behind your back,” he said, looking away. “Anyway, call if you need—”

“Wait,” Carisi said when Barba started to turn. Carisi peered up at him through the steam, reading Barba’s face. “Are you…Did you _not_?” he asked, trying to puzzle out how that might be possible. It was the only explanation that had made sense, and the fact that Barba had clearly been expecting him home only seemed to confirm it.

“We can talk later,” Barba said. “Just relax and…feel better.”

“Tell me.” Carisi put a wet hand over his mouth to cough, closing his eyes at the pain in his throat.

“She was worried about you, thought you might be sicker than you were letting on.”

Carisi looked up at him again through watery eyes. “I’m not a kid,” he said.

“Of course not,” Barba said. “I know that, and so does she. But you and I both know that you put up with a lot, Sonny. You’d hobble around on a broken leg and never say a word—”

“I’ve worked hard to earn my spot,” Carisi interrupted. “I won’t give them any excuses to—” He broke off abruptly. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I know you were only trying to help.”

“She called me to talk about the Donaghue case. Then she asked—as a friend—if she should be worried about you. If you would put yourself at risk to make it seem like you were fine.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her it would take a lot more than a cold to keep you down and you’d do your fucking job until you decided you couldn’t. I told her if she wanted to know how you were feeling, she should ask you. She called back half an hour later to apologize for crossing the personal-professional line, which I told her was ridiculous since she’s the best friend I have.”

“Thought I was your best friend,” Carisi mumbled, a small attempt at a joke. He felt like an ass, and he felt close to bursting into tears. He really was a mess.

“She’s the best friend I don’t sleep with,” Barba said. “She told me you seemed miserable and it was a slow day, so she was going to send you home.”

“So you came home to take care of me?”

Barba sighed. “I know, you can take care of yourself,” he said. “I only wanted to make sure you were alright. I’ll let you relax.”

“Wait, please don’t go,” Carisi said, and the crack in his voice wasn’t from his sore throat. He held out a dripping hand. He didn’t care if he seemed needy or pathetic.

Barba hesitated, searching Carisi’s face. He bent and slid the mug out of the way, then seated himself on the edge of the tub, turned so he was facing Carisi. “What do you need?” he asked. On impulse, he reached out and brushed Carisi’s drooping hair from his forehead. “Did you take more cold medicine?”

“I’m—I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions, Raf,” Carisi croaked.

“Sonny, do…” Barba hesitated, looking at him, and Carisi could see the concern in his eyes. “Do they give you a hard time about us?” he finally asked.

“No, it’s not like that,” Carisi assured him. “It’s in my head, y’know? I know it’s different here but I can’t get over…that little voice inside. I guess I just let it get the best of me today.”

“You’re sick,” Barba said. “You’re allowed to wallow a little and tell the rest of the world to go screw itself for a while.”

Carisi managed a small laugh. “The rest of the world can go screw itself as long as you stay here with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Barba said softly, running a thumb over Carisi’s flushed cheek. “Tell me how to make you feel better.”

“Will you come in with me?”

Barba raised his eyebrows. “Of course not,” he said.

“Please?”

Barba gave him an exasperated look. “We’ll never fit. Your legs are seven feet long, you barely fit on your own.”

Carisi gave him his best puppy dog eyes in return, the gesture made even more effective by the red puffiness and sheen of moisture. “Is it ’cause I’m all snotty?” he asked. “You don’t think I’m cute anymore?”

Barba chuckled quietly. “Fine,” he said, “but don’t complain when you have to help me out.” Barba rolled his eyes as Carisi’s expression brightened, but smiled as he quickly stripped out of his clothes and tossed them on top of the hamper.

Carisi sat up and scooted forward to the middle of the tub, his knees bent up to his chest, and Barba stepped into the hot, sudsy water behind him. He paused for a moment, getting acclimated to the heat, and then carefully lowered himself down, sliding his feet past Carisi’s hips. The water lapped up and over the edge of the tub and onto the rug as Barba settled himself back against the wall.

Carisi pushed himself back carefully until his hips were between Barba’s thighs, and then he leaned back against the other man’s body, sighing. Barba wrapped his arms around Carisi, resting his hands on the younger man’s stomach under the bubbles, and Carisi tucked his head under Barba’s chin. Carisi’s knees were bent up out of the water, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Barba’s body surrounding him, and the comforting rise and fall of his broad chest. Carisi could feel the day’s tensions sliding away, and even the thudding in his skull seemed to lessen. He’d been fighting against the fogginess in his brain all day, but now he relaxed into it.

“Now you’re taking care of me when I’m sick,” he murmured drowsily. “Guess this makes us even.” He felt Barba kiss his head.

“Not even close,” Barba murmured into his hair, tightening his arms around Carisi. “Listen, I do have a confession that I should’ve made when you were already angry with me.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t ask Liv to send you home but…I did tell your sisters that I didn’t think we’d make it to the Easter egg hunt tomorrow. I figured we’d still see them at the church on Sunday—”

“I forgot about the egg thing,” Carisi said, shifting a little in Barba’s hold.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped with your family—They sent me a group text asking if you still had a cold, and asking if you were going to be up for it, and…I didn’t want to bother you at work so I said no.”

“Thanks,” Carisi said, surprising Barba. “I don’t wanna get the kids sick.” He paused, and he could feel Barba’s uncertainty. “I’m a little over-sensitive about my job, Raf, I know. But nothing makes me happier than knowing my sisters send you group texts and that you feel comfortable being yourself with them. And besides, you know I’d never be able to tell them no,” he added with a smile. “You, they actually listen to.”

“Your voice sounds so rough, sweetheart,” Barba said, kissing his head again. “Will you do me a favor and drink some tea? The honey will help your throat feel better.”

“You calling me ‘sweetheart’ makes me feel better,” Carisi mumbled, forcing his eyes open. “But I’ll drink it if you promise to stay with me.”

“I’m stuck in here, now,” Barba joked. But when Carisi reached for the mug, Barba repeated in a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

**MAY**

 

“Why’d you bake two cakes?” Barba asked, setting his briefcase on the table. He walked over to the counter to look down at the perfectly-decorated cakes. They both said _Happy Mother’s Day_ , one in green icing and one in pink.

“One’s for your mom,” Carisi said, frowning as though it should’ve been obvious. “The green one—her favorite color’s green, right?”

Barba couldn’t speak for a moment. “You…made my mom a Mother’s Day cake?” he finally asked.

“Hey,” Carisi said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell her it’s from me—I meant for you to give it to her. And it’s carrot cake but I made hers without walnuts. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume—”

Barba kissed him to silence his apology. Carisi was far more patient and understanding than Barba deserved. “Thank you,” Barba said. Before he could say more, there was a knock on the door, and he drew back to look over his shoulder. He’d only just gotten home, himself, and he wasn’t expecting visitors. The look on Carisi’s face said he wasn’t, either.

Barba turned and crossed to the door, but as he walked he felt a growing suspicion beginning to gnaw at his stomach. He hesitated at the door and checked the peephole to find his mother standing outside. His stomach immediately clenched tight.

He looked back at Carisi, who’d followed him halfway to the door. “It’s my mother,” he whispered.

Carisi frowned. “I thought you were meeting her,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“I was,” Barba said. “I don’t know—” He moved away from the door, cursing himself as a coward and an asshole. He hated the sudden fear churning in his stomach, and he hated that Carisi could see it in his eyes.

“Okay,” Carisi said, starting back toward the kitchen. “I’ll take my ma’s cake in the bedroom and wait until you guys leave—”

“No, _no_ ,” Barba said, “please, Sonny, please—it’s not about—”

“Raf,” Carisi interrupted calmly, “I know, honey, it’s alright. I’ll just—”

“No, fuck, it’s _not_ alright.” He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, crossing to the other man.

“You could pretend you’re not here,” Carisi whispered, smiling, rubbing his hand up and down Barba’s arm in an attempt to calm him.

Barba laughed, but it turned into a groan. “Please, stay,” he said. He touched his hand to Carisi’s face for a few seconds. “Stay with me.”

“Of course, if you’re sure,” Carisi answered.

“Of course I’m sure,” Barba said in spite of the burn of acid in his gut. “I’m sorry, Sonny, I’m so—I’ll make this up to you.” He winced when his mother knocked again. He needed to answer the door because she was likely five seconds away from calling his phone.

“Honey, please, it’ll be okay,” Carisi said, his tone soothing. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

Barba looked at Carisi’s face—full of kindness and love and concern—and took another calming breath. “I love you,” he said. He turned away and strode to the door, pulling it open as his mother was struggling to fish her phone from her coat pocket while balancing a casserole on her other arm.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been out here for—”

“ _Mami_ , what are you doing here, I’m supposed to pick you up in an hour,” he said, taking the dish from her hands and placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Well isn’t that a fine greeting,” she answered, giving him a look. “I brought you a casserole, as you can see,” she added, waving her hand at it. “God knows what kind of junk you eat.”

“It’s Mother’s Day, I’m supposed to be giving you things,” he said, stepping aside so she could enter the apartment.

“Oh, _mijo_.” She patted his cheek with a hand. “Seeing you is all the—” She caught sight of Carisi, and her words and steps faltered. “Detective,” she said in surprise.

“Hello, Mrs. Barba,” Carisi answered with a smile.

Lucia glanced between the two men. “Rafi, you should’ve told me if I was interrupting a work thing,” she said.

“No, it’s…not,” he answered, cursing himself for getting so worked up and tongue-tied. He was too old to be acting like this, and he knew it. But he could already see the suspicion creeping into his mother’s eyes, and behind that suspicion there was disappointment. Or worse. He knew his mother loved him but he couldn’t help wondering sometimes if she didn’t also hate him, somewhere inside of herself. “Please, do you want to take off your coat? We have time for a drink before we head to dinner.”

Carisi stepped forward and reached for the casserole, and Barba let him take it, shooting him a grateful look. Carisi was calm, and his calmness helped soothe some of Barba’s nerves. Barba took a moment to watch him carry the dish to the kitchen counter, and then forced himself to meet his mother’s eyes.

“ _Por cuánto tiempo ha estado sucediendo esto—_ ”

“Please don’t do that,” Barba said, grimacing. “Please don’t try to exclude him,” he added, not bothering to point out that Carisi’s Spanish had gotten pretty good, anyway.

“I didn’t want to embarrass the boy,” she said.

“He’s not a boy,” Barba answered. He hated the defensiveness in his voice. “Mom, come sit down. We’ll talk. Let me take your coat.”

She clutched it to herself for a moment. “I’m not sure I shouldn’t leave, I’m not feeling very welcome.”

“Don’t be silly, _Mami_ , you’re always welcome. _Lo siento,_ let me explain, _por favor_.” She shrugged out of her coat and he went to hang it up.

“What’s to explain?” she asked as she walked over to sit in the armchair. She’d recovered her composure. “So, you’re seeing someone. I only wanted to know for how long, that’s all. A perfectly innocent question.”

Carisi was standing near the kitchen, waiting for Barba’s lead. Barba motioned for him with a hand and Carisi crossed to him without hesitation. “Since the end of October, I suppose,” Barba said, slipping his fingers between Carisi’s and walking to the couch. The two men sat beside each other, and Lucia looked down at their clasped hands on Barba’s thigh.

“Seven months,” she said after a moment. Her eyes lifted to her son’s, and he saw her pain. He was responsible for it, and he hated himself for causing it.

“I’m sorry, _Mami_ ,” he said. “I don’t know why I waited so long to tell you.”

“Don’t you?” she asked, and her expression hardened. “You think I couldn’t handle knowing? We’ve been through this, Rafi, haven’t I told you I accept you dating other men? Haven’t I been as accepting as I could—I don’t like you keeping secrets from me, _hijo_ , even if you think you’re protecting me. You don’t know everything.”

“I wasn’t protecting you, I was protecting him from you,” Barba said. He saw her wince, and he leaned forward. He was holding Carisi’s hand in a death-grip.

“When have I ever been anything other than polite to one of your…friends?” she asked in a low voice full of hurt and anger. “What do you think I’m going to say? Who am I to criticize his lifestyle?”

“Mom.” Barba drew a breath. “You don’t understand how hurtful your words are, sometimes. I know you don’t mean it—Stop, wait,” he said, holding out his free hand when she started to rise. “Please don’t leave, we need to talk about this.”

“Rafael, we _have_ talked about this,” she said.

“No, Mom—this is not a… _bad habit_ that you tolerate or some _flaw_ to overlook, this is who I am,” Barba said, and Carisi leaned closer against his side at the crack in his voice. “I appreciate that you did the best you knew how to do, and God knows I hate disappointing you, but you made yourself clear: you’d pretend to be okay with me sleeping with men as long as I understood I was eventually supposed to settle down with a woman and give you grandkids. And I went along with your assumptions because I was too afraid of seeing the look in your eyes, the look that said I’d broken your heart.”

“So, I’m sorry I’m such a terrible mother,” she said.

“Don’t do that, don’t try to make me feel guilty, I already do,” Barba answered.

“What, it’s not reasonable that I should want grandkids?” she asked. “Doesn’t your mother want grandchildren, Detective Carisi?” she asked. “Surely I’m not—”

“He has sisters, _Mami_ , she has grandkids,” Barba said.

“Lucky woman,” Lucia answered, but she winced as the words left her mouth, and Barba saw regret in her face.

He sighed. “Yeah,” he said after a moment.

“Rafi, _mijo_ , I didn’t mean—”

“I was never going to have kids,” he said quietly. “Gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, it wouldn’t have mattered. I was never going to be a father, and you know exactly why. I love you, Mom, and I don’t blame you for anything, I need you to know that. I respect you more than I can express, and all I’ve ever wanted is to make you proud.”

“I am proud of you, Rafael, you’re a good man,” she said, and the tears in her eyes matched those in her son’s.

“Things are different, now,” he said. He glanced at Carisi. “For the first time… _Mami_ , for the first time, I’m actually in love,” he said. “For the first time, I’ve started to think that all those things you want for me _might_ be possible. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know if I get married, it’ll be to this man beside me. If I have children, it’ll be with him. He makes me feel like I might be good enough for those things, that I might deserve them. And I love him, Mom, more than I thought I was capable of loving someone. I know if you’re willing to give him two minutes, you’ll love him, too, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. I want you to be proud of me but I can’t change who I am and I won’t let my fear of disappointing you ruin what I have with him. I’ve already hurt him by keeping our relationship from you for so long—”

“When you say _have children_ ,” she cut in, “do you mean… _adopt_?”

“Mrs. Barba, if I may,” Carisi said, “in our line of work—Raf’s and mine, _and_ yours—we all know there’re a lot of kids out there in need of a good home. Me, I come from a big family, you know? Italian-American Catholics,” he added with an endearing laugh. “Once I gave up on the idea of priesthood, I always figured I’d have a big family of my own, someday. Adopting was always part, if not all, of that plan. I think I’d be a good father. But what I know for _sure_? Your son would be a great father, even if he doesn’t believe it. And if we ever decide to go down that path, I’d be honored for my kids to have you as their _abuela_.

“But I love him more than some hypothetical future,” he continued. “Whatever we decide to do, we’ll decide it together. I know you said you’re proud of him, and I believe you—I just want you to know that Rafael is the best person I’ve ever known and every day I wake up thanking God that he’s chosen _me_ to love.”

“Jesus, Sonny,” Barba said, turning and wrapping his arms around Carisi. He buried his face against the other man’s shirt, breathing in his familiar and comforting scent. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. He felt Carisi kiss his head as the detective hugged him.

“Watch your mouth,” Lucia scolded. “And…of course you do. And after that speech, I guess if anyone comes close to deserving _you_ , maybe it’s him.”

“That might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” Carisi said, and Barba could practically _hear_ his dimples.

Barba drew back, put his hands to Carisi’s cheeks, and kissed him. “I love you, I’m so sorry I made you doubt it,” he said, searching the detective’s blue gaze.

“Raf, I never doubted,” Carisi laughed. “Words are just _words_ ,” he added, patting his hand over Barba’s heart.

Barba pulled in a breath and let it out, and a sudden smile transformed his face. He kissed Carisi again before turning his attention to Lucia. “Mom, I’d like Sonny to come to dinner with us. I’d like you to get to know him.”

She looked them over for a few seconds, and Barba gave her time to process. “The casserole is still warm, fifteen minutes in the oven and it’ll be perfect. We can stay here and get to know each other.”

“ _Mami_ …I know you might be uncomfortable with me, with us, in public, I’m still struggling with public displays of affection myself, God knows I’ve got issues to work through, but I will _not_ be ashamed to walk down the street with my hand in his or to sit in a restaurant—”

“ _Mijo_ , it’s not that.” At his uncertain look, she said, “I promise you,” and he realized that she was telling the truth. He felt some of the weight slipping from his shoulders. “I just think it would be nice to sit here, just the three of us, where we can hear ourselves think.”

Barba looked at Carisi. “What do you think?”

Carisi grinned. “I think that casserole smells pretty good, so you can count me in.”

To Lucia, Barba said, “He made you a cake.”

“He bakes? Be still my heart!” she answered, and Barba laughed.

“I hope you like carrot cake,” Carisi said. “But I promise it’s one hundred percent walnut-free, and I wasn’t sure if you like pineapple so I left it out of yours. But if you want something else, I can whip something up.”

Lucia got to her feet. “Can I give you a hug, Detective?” she asked.

Carisi stood with a sheepish smile on his face. “If you’ll call me Sonny,” he said, holding out his arms.

“I can do that,” she agreed, “if you’ll call me Lucia.”

Barba felt fresh tears pricking his eyes as he watched them hug each other, the two people he loved more than anything in the world. Lucia patted Carisi’s cheek and stepped back, turning to Barba. Barba got to his feet and walked into her embrace, letting her bury her face in his neck for long moments.

 

*       *       *

 

Carisi straddled Barba’s hips, looking down at his face. He could sense the change in Barba—it was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Carisi was sure that’s exactly how it felt.

Barba reached up a hand and Carisi bent down to kiss him, giving his mouth over to Barba’s tongue. Barba’s hand fisted in his hair, holding his head in place; his other hand was on Carisi’s hip. Carisi reached down between their bodies, positioning Barba’s erection, and eased himself onto it. Barba groaned into his mouth, his hips flexing beneath Carisi, his hand tightening on his hip.

Carisi moved slowly, sinking down Barba’s length and pausing before sliding forward. His own cock was hard and slick against Barba’s stomach, leaving a smear of precum in the soft, dark curls that trailed down the ADA’s belly. Carisi braced his hands on Barba’s shoulders and broke away from his kiss, raising himself up far enough so he could see the other man’s face.

“I love you,” Barba said.

Carisi knew how much it meant that Barba had said the words in front of his mother, and now, when he was vulnerable and had all of his defenses down. Carisi slid his hands from Barba’s shoulders to his chest, pressing his palms against the other man’s nipples, relishing the soft gasp that left Barba’s lips.

“I love you, too, Raf,” Carisi murmured, moving his hips slowly, watching the pleasure ripple through Barba’s features. “Forever,” he added. He saw something shift in Barba’s eyes, saw a moment of fear clouding the lawyer’s green gaze, but then it was gone, quickly hidden away. Barba pulled him down again for another kiss, and Carisi could feel his desperation.

Carisi rocked his hips slowly, steadily, carrying Barba toward his climax. There was no room for fear or doubt, not tonight. Carisi had faith that everything would work itself out. They’d already hurdled so many obstacles, and here they were, together; he had to believe that they could work through anything that might come their way, as long as they kept themselves open to each other.

 

 

**AUGUST**

 

Barba scanned the park, his temper flaring. It was too hot to be wandering around looking for his boyfriend—and God, how ridiculous a word _that_ was, he would never get used to it but had yet to find an alternative that wasn’t just as annoying—in the middle of the afternoon in Central Park. Barba had gone home and changed out of his suit, into jeans and a short-sleeve button-up, like Carisi had requested. He’d come to the park, as requested. But the texts had told Barba to meet him _here_ , and there was no sign—

And then Barba saw him.

Carisi. Throwing Frisbees with three guys who looked to be in their mid-twenties. No, not just throwing Frisbees, but playing some sort of two-on-two game, and as Barba watched, Carisi and the young man who was apparently his teammate both shouted in celebration. Carisi threw his arms up, laughing as the young man jogged over and clapped him on the back.

Barba had no idea what was going on, and he had half a mind to turn and stride out of the park and go home. Instead he found himself walking onto the grass, headed toward Carisi and his…friends.

He’d only taken a few steps when he felt his right foot skid beneath him, and Barba froze, closing his eyes briefly before looking down. _Dog shit_ , and why was _that_ not a surprise? He sighed. He’d had a long and stressful morning at work and all he wanted was to settle into his sofa and relax with his air conditioner on low.

He looked up to find Carisi jogging toward him. The detective was wearing cargo shorts and a tank top, and his hair was plastered to his forehead, his cheeks flushed. Perspiration darkened a narrow triangle down the center of his chest. He was wearing sneakers without socks.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t know you were here—lost track of time,” Carisi said as he drew up short in front of Barba. Barba thought Carisi would kiss him, and he was prepared to forgive him for luring him out into this hellish heat. But Carisi _didn’t_ kiss him. Instead, he waved a hand toward himself and said, “Sorry, I won’t get you all sweaty.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your game, or whatever,” Barba said, scowling past him toward the other three guys. “If you want to finish, I’ll just head—”

“No, no,” Carisi said quickly, “I was just subbing, they can find someone else. Come on, I wanna show you something.”

“Show me some—It’s too hot to wander around, and I just stepped in dog crap, Sonny,” Barba said. He knew he sounded petulant. Carisi looked down, eyes widening in concern. To his credit, he didn’t laugh—of course, he’d picked up on Barba’s mood quickly enough. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to—”

“No, wait, I’ll—I’ll take care of it. Just, uh—just sit down.”

Barba glanced around. “Sit _down_?” he repeated incredulously. There wasn’t a bench in sight. “Sure, would you like me to sit _in_ the dog shit or next to it?”

Carisi grimaced, his smile—already tentative—slipping. Barba cursed himself again, but he couldn’t seem to rein in his temper. He and Carisi had yet to have a real fight. There’d been a few minor arguments, but Carisi was always patient and accommodating when Barba was in a bad mood. And on the rare occasion that _Carisi_ was in a foul temper, Barba had no choice but to placate him; he didn’t have the heart to goad him when he was already irritable, and Carisi’s bad moods never lasted long, anyway.

Everything had been good between them. Barba had thought that living together would be an adjustment, but they’d settled in without a hitch. He’d thought it would take some getting used to, his mother asking after Carisi and whether or not they’d given any more thought to giving her those grandchildren, but Barba found himself more relaxed around his mother than he’d ever been.

Barba kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. No, they hadn’t discussed marriage or children in any concrete way, but they were content in their life together. Or so Barba thought, but he couldn’t rid his mind of those niggling doubts, that little voice that kept insisting it would all come to a screeching halt sooner or later and that the end would be Barba’s fault.

“No, over here,” Carisi said quietly, nodding toward a blanket spread on the grass. There was a red and white cooler and a cloth grocery bag. “I’ve, um. I’ve got food,” he added hopefully, as though maybe Barba’s crankiness was due to hunger. “Sit and I’ll clean your shoe.”

“Clean—I don’t need you to _clean—_ ” Barba started, but he cut himself off and let Carisi lead him—his fingers barely touching Barba’s arm—to the blanket. Barba wrinkled his nose at the thin material spread over the filthy grass. He didn’t want to be an asshole; Carisi didn’t deserve it. So, even though Barba couldn’t quite smooth the scowl from his forehead, he did fold himself down onto the edge of the blanket with a small grunt.

Carisi immediately sank into a crouch and reached for his shoe, slipping it off before Barba could voice an objection. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” Carisi said.

“Wait here?” Barba repeated. He stared at his sock in disbelief. “What are you— _Sonny_ ,” he said, but Carisi was already jogging away with the feces-smeared shoe held out to his side. “What the fuck,” Barba muttered under his breath, glancing around as he felt his cheeks darken. “I’ll just sit here alone, on the ground, with one fucking shoe…” He closed his eyes, drawing a bracing breath. He needed to calm down. What was wrong with him?

Carisi was gone only a couple of minutes, and when he returned, Barba’s loafer was clean and speckled with drops of water. Carisi crouched down to slip it back onto Barba’s foot. “Good as new, Cinderella,” he said with a cautious smile.

“Then I suppose you’re Prince Charming?” Barba said. He didn’t mean for it to sound bitter or sarcastic—for all intents and purposes, Carisi _was_ Prince Charming, at least to Barba—but it did.

“I think that’s Snow White,” Carisi said quietly, shifting forward to sit on the blanket. He sat with his body turned toward Barba, one leg straight and the other bent, his hands resting on his own ankle.

“I think it’s sort of a Disney catch-all,” Barba returned, but he’d managed to soften his tone. After a moment, he moved further back onto the blanket, keeping only his shoes on the grass, and looked at Carisi.

Carisi’s eyes dropped to the ground, and then slid toward the cooler. “You want a drink?” he asked.

The fear hit Barba suddenly, then, and he realized it had been lurking just beneath his irritation; his mind had been studiously avoiding acknowledging it, clinging to irrational anger as protection.

Carisi, avoiding eye contact? Not kissing him because of a little sweat? Dragging him out here to a public place when they could be in their quiet apartment?

“What’s wrong?” Barba asked through numb lips. He wanted to apologize for being an asshole, but he swallowed the words back. He thought he’d let go of most of his insecurity, but now it all came crashing back. That voice—the voice of his father, wasn’t it?—reminded him that Carisi deserved someone more open and affectionate.

“I thought we could have a picnic and…and talk,” Carisi said, fidgeting. He met Barba’s eyes, and his shoulders seemed to slump a bit. “Stupid idea, I guess? Sitting on the ground, it’s hot and—and I know you had a rough morning…”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Barba asked. He didn’t mean to blurt it out, but he needed to know. He wanted to believe he wouldn’t beg, that he could maintain some dignity, but his stomach was clenched tight and he couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.

Carisi blinked. “What?” he asked. He looked momentarily stunned. “ _No_ , Jesus, I—” He stopped, staring at Barba in disbelief for a few seconds. Barba tried to temper the cool relief flooding his stomach, tried not to get his hopes too high. “Oh my God, Raf,” Carisi said, suddenly shifting closer and putting his hand on Barba’s leg. “How could you think—”

“I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole,” Barba said quickly before he could stop himself. “Not just today. For weeks or…or hell, forever, really.” For the last two weeks, they’d hardly seen each other. Carisi had been working a lot of late nights, often getting home just a few hours before Barba had to leave. Barba missed him when he wasn’t in their bed, but instead of saying so, he’d been a passive-aggressive dick, and there was no excuse. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Rafael…I know it hasn’t been that long, not really, not in…the grand scheme of things.” Carisi offered a small smile. “Ten months, today,” he said, surprising Barba. “There’s a lot we haven’t talked about, and that’s okay. It really is. But—”

“You were wrong, when you said you thought you’d be a good father,” Barba interrupted, bucking up his courage to cover Carisi’s hand on Barba’s thigh. “You’d be a _great_ one—you _will_ be, because you said it yourself, you always planned on having kids and you deserve it. And me, I meant what I said, I never planned on having kids. I never gave myself a moment to think it was a possibility. Until…I met you. I started to think it could be okay with you, you’d be a good enough father for both of us and you wouldn’t let me screw our kids up too badly—”

“Our kids?”

Barba grimaced and swallowed. “I know there are so many things I should’ve said, Sonny, I keep too many of my thoughts to myself and I promise I’m working on that. Give me a chance to—”

“Idiot.”

Barba blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Idiot,” Carisi repeated. “I brought you out here to ask you to marry me.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Carisi said.

“No, I—I think I _mis_ heard you,” Barba said. A proposal was so far from what Barba had expected to hear that his brain couldn’t seem to process the words.

“Look, I…uhh…realize now that I messed this up, I figured it wouldn’t matter so much if I was, you know.” He glanced down at his clothes with a grimace. “Underdressed for the occasion, because I kinda thought we could just…have a picnic and talk and it would be…romantic, or something, but then I got all sweaty like a jerk and lost track of time so when I saw you I got all nervous…I’m sorry, we can forget this ever happened, alright? We can go home.” He glanced up at the sky and swallowed. “But, uh…” He closed his eyes for a moment and pointed a finger up at the bright sky. “That’s for you,” he said.

Barba tipped his head to look up. It took him a moment to figure out what Carisi was talking about, and then he spotted the plane flying above and the aerial banner trailing behind it. _Sonny loves Rafael_ , it said. Short, to the point. The message blurred as Barba’s eyes filled with tears.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Carisi muttered, rubbing Barba’s leg. “I shouldna dragged you out here, I was just…I just wanted you to know that it’s like we said a few month ago, we’ll decide everything else down the road, together, but no matter what else we do or don’t do, I want…to be with you forever. God, I’m the idiot,” he sighed. “I wanted you to understand it’s okay if you’re not ready to talk about some stuff or decide everything right now, that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sonny, I…” Barba paused and cleared his throat, but he couldn’t form the words he needed to say. Finally, he managed to murmur: “You got the names backward.” Carisi smiled in response, but it was a small smile, barely enough to draw a single shallow dimple. “I do love you with…everything inside of me, Sonny.”

Carisi shifted closer, tilting his head. “I know, Raf,” he said. “I _know_ you do, I just—I feel like I must be doing something wrong, because you still have this _doubt_ —”

“No, _no_ , it’s not your fault,” Barba said, grabbing the front of Carisi’s shirt.

“If you thought I brought you out here to break up with you then I haven’t done a very good job of showing you how much I love you. If there’s one thing you shouldn’t ever have to worry about, it’s that.”

Barba drew a deep breath through his nose and released it slowly. He let go of Carisi’s shirt, smoothing it with his hand for a moment, and then he turned and laid back onto the blanket. He squinted up at the bright sky and spotted the plane making a second run over them. He thought about Carisi, planning a casual picnic in the park so he could casually propose marriage while casually pointing out the aerial banner fluttering against the sky.

Carisi, requesting those words be printed on a banner for all of Manhattan to see: _Sonny loves Rafael_.

“ _Estoy obligado a amarte porque eres mi hijo, pero lo haces muy difícil_ ,” Barba said quietly. He could feel Carisi processing the words, translating and considering their real meaning, and the detective shifted closer, settling both hands onto Barba’s thigh.

“Your father?” he guessed.

“I have to love you, I’m _obligated_ because you’re my son, but no one else ever will. That’s what he meant,” Barba said. “Even if he didn’t say it quite so plainly. _I’m required to love you because you’re my son but you make it very difficult_.”

“Raf, I’m—”

“For my sixth birthday, my mother threw me a party and she threatened or guilted all the other mothers into making their kids attend. I knew they didn’t want to be there, the other kids hated me. I tried to tell her and she told me to try harder. _Sé el chico encantador sé que puedes ser_ —be the charming boy I know you can be, Rafi.

“At first, no one was there. She made me sit at the head of the table in my Sunday best, waiting. Part of me wanted desperately for people to come, and part of me hoped desperately that they wouldn’t. But eventually they did, coming in little groups. They brought presents. We had cake and ice cream. I was expected to entertain my guests.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Carisi said, because he could hear the pain in Barba’s voice and was smart enough to imagine how the day had gone.

“I did try, you know,” Barba murmured, watching the banner pass overhead.

“You shouldn’t’ve had to,” Carisi said. “Those kids were idiots and…your parents were wrong to put you in that position.”

“I tried, but I never quite understood the other kids, what they wanted from me. Not until Eddie and Alex. I never would’ve survived school without them—emotionally _or_ physically. But that day, after everyone finally left, I was…”

“Hurt.”

“Yes. And angry. I yelled at my mother for the first time, I said, _Mami_ , I told you they didn’t want to come, why did you make me do this? And she said, I told you to try harder. You cannot go around acting smarter than everyone, _mijo_ , no one likes a showoff.”

“You _were_ smarter.”

“She was right. I was an insufferable little know-it-all, thinking that I could make friends by telling the other kids all the things they didn’t know. Of course they hated me.”

“She wasn’t right.”

“I said, they’re all stupid and this party was stupid and—well, I don’t know if I would’ve had the guts to finish, even as upset as I was, but I didn’t get the chance because my father backhanded me in the mouth and sent me to the floor.

“Of course they didn’t want to come, he said. Why can’t you try to be _normal_? If they’re so stupid and you’re _so smart_ , you should be able to trick them into liking you. It’s going to be a lonely life, otherwise. _Estoy obligado a amarte porque eres mi hijo, pero lo haces muy difícil_.” Barba paused. The plane seemed to have made its final pass and would soon be out of sight. He wished he’d thought to take a picture, but it didn’t really matter. The image would be burned into his brain forever. “You just need to try harder, my mother said. Trick them into liking you, my father said. So I did. I learned how to figure out what people wanted from me and I either gave it to them, or the opposite, depending on my goals. I learned how to manipulate people.”

“You made real friends, though,” Carisi said.

“Eddie moved in a few months after the party. He didn’t have any friends and didn’t speak a word of English. He was an easy mark. I targeted him, gave him what he needed in exchange for what I wanted.”

“You became friends,” Carisi insisted.

“I already knew Alex but we became friends after he realized Eddie and I could be useful. Eddie was muscle and I was brains and Alex was ambitious, even at seven years old. Yeah, we were friends,” Barba finally admitted on a sigh. “And look how that turned out.”

“They weren’t your only friends—I know for all her shit-talking, Calhoun would go to bat for you in a heartbeat, and same with most of the other lawyers you drag in court—and you got the whole squad, Liv, Rollins, Fin. You piss a lot of people off, Raf, but they still respect the hell out of you.”

“Sonny.”

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

“I know you love me. And I can’t…bear the thought of ever losing you, of going back to the life I had before you showed me how _happy_ I could be. But…I can’t help worrying that I’ve somehow tricked you into this, that someday you’ll see what everyone else saw and realize—” His voice cracked and he struggled to swallow for a moment. “That my father was right, that I’m fundamentally unlovable.”

Carisi shifted and laid himself down beside Barba, wrapping an arm around him. He propped himself on an elbow so he could see Barba’s face, and brushed the sweaty hair back from his temple. “Falling in love with you is the easiest thing I ever did,” he said softly. “Now, I know I’m not as smart as you. Maybe I’m not smarter than any of those kids—”

“You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

“—and maybe I’m not the most observant person—”

“You’ve never missed a detail in your life.”

“—and I’m too desperate for people to like me—”

“Being nice isn’t the same as desperate.”

“—so I admit it might be easy for you to trick me. Especially since I had such a big crush on you from the second I saw you.”

“I…” Barba searched Carisi’s face. Barba knew what the other man was getting at, and he knew it was true: Carisi was far too intelligent and analytical to be manipulated into falling in love with a lie.

“You never said so, and you drank all of it, but you _hated_ that pumpkin spice coffee creamer I bought. I promise I won’t ever buy it again. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. And…when you got here a little while ago and saw me with those guys, you were jealous. Not because you think I’d ever cheat but because you’re afraid I’m missing out on something that a younger, sportier guy could offer. But I will always choose laying here with you or sitting at home with you. I don’t want anyone else, ever.

“After you told your mom that you’d considered the possibility of adopting kids, you panicked a little. Because you still weren’t sure if you wanted that, you still _aren’t_ sure, and you were afraid you’d given me some sort of false hope. That I would stay with you because I thought it was possible and then learn down the road that it was never in the cards for you, for us. We didn’t really talk about it, I wanted to give you time and you wanted to avoid driving me away.

“You like it when I make you feel vulnerable in bed, even though it scares you, because you’ve never trusted anyone the way you trust me. It makes you feel like you’ve finally opened yourself up to someone. It’s only later that you start to doubt again, wondering if it was real.

“You like it when I run my fingers through your hair, you like it even more than having your dick sucked or watching me strip out of my work clothes, and we both know those are two of your favorite things. But this?” he asked, slipping his fingers into Barba’s hair. “This is your _favorite_ intimacy, and nothing makes me happier than stroking your hair and feeling you relax in my arms as you fall asleep.

“You generally love my cooking and you love even more the idea of me cooking _for_ you, so you never voluntarily tell me if you don’t like something. I have to ask directly or—in the case of rosemary—infer it myself. You also love cooking for me, making traditional Cuban meals and watching me try them for the first time—even when I don’t like something, you like watching my reactions. Sometimes I wrinkle my nose just to make you laugh.

“You complain about me wearing your ties but you secretly like it because you know everyone at work can tell when I’m wearing one of yours. You like playing with my chest hair even though it’s thinner than yours. You hated the mustache I had when we first met and you were annoyed that you were attracted to me in spite of it. You like it when I read the same books as you so we can talk about them. You like showering together, but not before court—then you need time to be inside your own head and prepare.

“Tell me if any of this is wrong, Raf—tell me if I’ve missed something or misinterpreted something and we can go from there. Tell me if I haven’t been seeing the real you all this time.”

“What’s my favorite flower?” Barba asked with the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Mariposa because it reminds you of Cuba even though you’ve never been, but you love how pure and clean and soft the petals of white roses are when they’re fresh and haven’t started to wilt.”

“Now who’s a know-it-all?” Barba asked, but his face and voice were soft—open and vulnerable and full of love.

“No one’s ever made me feel smart like you do—no one ever believed in me, supported me, as much as you, even before we were friends.”

“You make a compelling case, Counsellor,” Barba said after a few moments.

“I learned from the best.”

“I don’t hide things from you because I don’t want to be open, I just prefer to tell you the things that make you smile.”

“Oh, yeah,” Carisi grinned. “I forgot that one—you fucking love my dimples, for some reason.”

“Not one of life’s great mysteries, that one,” Barba said on a soft sigh, looking over Carisi’s face. “I want to marry you, Sonny.”

“Yeah?” Carisi pulled his arm back to rub gently at Barba’s chest.

“I want to start a family with you. I do, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I want it. It terrifies me, the thought that I could be responsible for molding children, that I might say or do something to hurt them. But then I remember that with you by my side, I wouldn’t need to worry. Can we…table this proposal, Sonny?”

Carisi chuckled at the choice of words. “Of course.”

“For a little while. Just bear with me for a little while longer…”

“Rafi, I’m not going anywhere. Now, listen. I know you must be hungry, and I’ve got sandwiches and a plate of cheese and fruit—seedless grapes that you like, not the ones that only _say_ seedless but aren’t really—and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. And wine, or sparkling cider if you prefer, because it’s a little hot out here for alcohol.”

“Remind me to thank your parents for making the world’s only perfect person.”

Carisi laughed. “Hey, I ain’t perfect,” he said with a wink. “You’re just blinded by the pretty dimples and the fact that you love me.”

“Nah, that’s not it…” Barba said, grinning when Carisi rolled his eyes. “I was just smart enough to fall in love with the world’s only perfect person.”

“Hmm,” Carisi said, leaning down to press a kiss to Barba’s lips. “Now you know how I feel,” he murmured.

 

 

**OCTOBER**

 

“Raf, I’m here with the kids,” Carisi called as he closed the apartment door. He ushered Noah and Jesse further into the room while he shifted Billie on his hip. Noah was dressed as Spider-Man, carrying the mask in his hand, and Jesse was dressed as “Vampire Cinderella.”

Billie was Snow White and Carisi was Prince Charming. He hadn’t let Barba see him in the costume, yet, and was looking forward to his reaction—although he had warned him that the costume was rented, this year, so they’d have to be a bit more careful during the removal process.

“Trick-or-treat, Uncle Rafa!” Noah and Jesse yelled in unison.

Billie blinked down at them in surprise, considered for a moment, and mumbled out a vague facsimile of what they’d said. The toddler only had a few words in her arsenal. Since this was her first year trick-or-treating, her sister and Noah had put in some time coaching her, trying to get her to say the words, but she’d shown little interest.

Carisi suspected that would change when she realized she would be getting candy in exchange. Carisi grinned at the thought of returning Billie to her mother with several new words in her vocabulary. Rollins was still bitter about the fact that Billie’s first word had been—

“ _Rafi_!” the girl squealed, as if on cue, when she spotted Barba coming out of the bedroom. She threw her arms out, reaching for him, and Carisi heard Barba’s soft chuckle. And then his mind went temporarily blank.

Barba met Carisi’s eyes and smirked.

“You’re dressed up, Uncle Raf!” Jesse exclaimed in delight.

“Who are you?” Noah asked, eying the costume.

Barba was dressed in light blue sweat pants and a brown blazer with a black belt slung low around it. He had a floppy yellow hat on his head, what appeared to be elf ears sticking up on either side of his head, and Carisi suddenly realized why Barba had been growing out his beard all week while they’d been on vacation.

Barba scowled, crossed his arms over his chest, and stood deliberately with his back arched so that his stomach pushed at the buttons of the blazer. Pursing his lips, he said: “Grumpy.”

Noah and Jesse laughed, but Billie was making noises of frustration, kicking at Carisi’s leg as she continued to reach for Barba. “ _Rafi_ ,” she repeated insistently.

Barba laughed and crossed to her. “Yes, love, sorry,” he said, holding out his arms. Billie launched herself at him, and Carisi released her into Barba’s hold. Barba and the girl stared at each other for a few moments, and Carisi stared at Barba: his scruffy beard, heavily salted with white; his ridiculous ears that didn’t belong with a dwarf costume; the adorably floppy hat that was pushed back on his forehead; and most of all his eyes, alight with love and wonder as he stared at the little girl whose first word had been his name.

Billie examined Barba’s ears and hat for a moment and touched her fingers to his beard before giggling, and his face split into a grin.

“I think the colors are wrong,” Noah said.

“Yeahhh,” Jesse agreed, “Grumpy has a red shirt…”

“Okay, okay,” Barba laughed. “You two are way too smart and observant for me to pull the wool over your eyes. You’re right, I’m Happy. And Jess, can I just say, you’re the best Vampire Cinderella I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s the only one,” Noah laughed.

“That’s because she’s the only one clever enough to think of it,” Barba said.

“I wore it to school and the girls in my class said it was gross,” Jesse said with a frown. “And the boys said I was weird,” she added.

“I don’t think it’s weird or gross, I think it’s imaginative.”

“Me, too,” Noah agreed, and Jesse beamed.

“Imanjatib,” Billie said, surprising everyone.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” Carisi laughed. “See if Rollins ever lets this one go.”

Barba shot him a quick smile before looking at Billie. “Imaginative,” he said slowly.

“Imanjatib,” she repeated, giggling at the tickle-scratch of his beard when he kissed her cheek.

“Is my costume imaginative?” Noah asked doubtfully, looking down at himself.

“We can’t all be vampires,” Jesse said, before adding with absolute confidence: “The world needs superheroes, y’know.”

“That is absolutely correct,” Barba told her. He bent and set Billie on her feet, telling the tiny Snow White, “Go with Noah and Jesse and they’ll get you some candy.” She clapped her hands at the idea. “Jess, the bowl on the kitchen counter has only stuff you can have, even the gummies, alright?” He straightened and watched the two older kids lead Billie to the candy.

Carisi moved in close to his side and bent his head to nuzzle beneath Barba’s ear. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” the detective murmured, his warm breath fanning Barba’s ear.

Barba let the shiver pass through his body and felt Carisi’s lips curve against the side of his neck. “You’re a very sick man, Detective,” he said, glaring sideways at Carisi when the younger man lifted his head to look at him. “I don’t know _why_ I love you.”

“Are there rules about Prince Charming hooking up with one of the dwarves?” Carisi whispered.

“First of all, they’re dwarfs, and secondly, we _hooked up_ on our first date—”

“That was a date?”

“—and it’s our one-year anniversary so I think it’s pretty much required.”

“Hmm,” Carisi said. They’d spent most of the past week in a cabin in upstate New York, and most of that time lounging in bed while cold rain drizzled against the outside of the windows. “You were pretty sneaky about this beard.”

Barba cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask—nor did I hear you complaining.”

“No,” Carisi agreed with a grin, “I’ve got beard burn in all the right places.”

Barba rolled his eyes. “Sick man,” he repeated under his breath, and Carisi tipped his head back to laugh. Barba had a flashback to the previous Halloween, when he’d still been fantasizing about burying his face in the detective’s throat for the first time.

The last year had healed something inside of Barba, something he’d thought could never be healed, and in the last two months, he’d realized that he wasn’t afraid of anything—not death, not even _life_ —when Carisi was by his side. Barba’s beard might naturally have enough white in it that he could use it as part of a dwarf costume, but he knew that in many ways his life was just beginning.

“Tonight, after you fuck me,” Carisi whispered into his ear so that the kids wouldn’t hear from the kitchen, “I’m gonna ask you to marry me again. You don’t have to say yes, but I know I won’t be able to help myself.”

Barba turned his head and caught Carisi’s lips with his own in a quick kiss. “I’ll say yes now so you don’t worry it’s the afterglow answering, then,” he said, drawing back to search Carisi’s soft gaze. “But just so you know, I’m shaving this beard in the morning.”

Carisi tried to turn his lips down into a pout, but the corners wouldn’t cooperate. “I should bring back the ’stache,” he suggested.

Barba sighed. “I’m sorry to say I’d still love you.”

“Come on, Happy,” Carisi said, grabbing Barba’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Let’s go get you some Reese’s.”

“My Prince Charming.” Barba drew their joined hands up to brush a kiss across Carisi’s knuckles.

 

 


End file.
